


before i can say goodbye

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [37]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-06 07:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15190172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Lonnie grins at her. “Makes sense, you know.”Nicole frowns, her fingertips drumming a beat against the counter. “What does?”“Why you’re Sheriff now.” Lonnie nods to himself. “Yes ma’am, it does. You got the people in mind.”





	1. and all this pain

**Author's Note:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTE** : This is Side A of the last single in the mixtape 'verse. With the new season airing in two weeks, Mixtape will be coming to an end with Side B of this single next week. A longer, more thought-out note will come next week, but until then: thank you so much for coming on this journey and enjoy the last ride.
> 
> Takes place in the fall of 2005.

**“Long, Long Way To Go” Def Leppard, 2000  
** _ You held my hand, and then you slipped away. And I may never see your face again. So, tell me how to fill the emptiness inside. Without love, what is life? _

“Sorry we’re late,” Nicole says, the words swallowed up by the round of applause that comes from the already full table. Nicole rolls her eyes, waving them all off. “Okay, okay.”

Wynonna stands, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’d like to say, on behalf of the Breakfast Patches-”

“We didn’t take a vote on that,” Jeremy interrupts.

Wynonna glares at him. “On behalf of the Breakfast Patches,” she says again. “We would like to congratulate you on finally showing up.”

“I’m five minutes late,” Nicole says flatly.

“Alice was wasting away,” Wynonna says.

Alice looks up from her book, thumb holding her page. “I was wasting away,” she echoes.

Wynonna gives Nicole a toothy smile. “See?”

Nicole plucks the book out of Alice’s hand, her fingers sliding over the page to keep Alice’s place, and taps her on the top of the head with it. “What have I said about copying your mother?”

“Not to do it,” Alice says.

“Because…”

“Because she’s almost always wrong about it, but especially about Nirvana being a future Rock and Roll Hall of Fame band,” Alice recites.

Nicole grins and rubs at the top of Alice’s head. “That’s my girl.”

“I should have you arrested for indoctrinating my child,” Wynonna grumbles as she sits back down.

Nicole slides into the seat next to her, draping her arm across the back of Alice’s chair. “I’ll let the Sheriff know you’re interested.”

Hayley, across the table, frowns. “Aren’t  _ you _ the Sheriff?”

Waverly’s hand slides across the back of Nicole’s shoulders as she sits down next to her. “Wynonna, weren’t you late for your own birthday party, like, last month?”

Wynonna waves a hand dismissively, her mouth full of eggs. 

“I ordered for you,” Mercedes says, pushing a plate of eggs and potatoes in front of Nicole.

Nicole grins. “Awh, you love me.”

“I keep telling you that,” Mercedes sings. She winks. “Just don’t tell my husband.”

Nicole leans forward over the table. “As long as you don’t tell my wife.”

Hayley wrinkles her nose. “Why’re adults so weird?”

Alice shrugs a shoulder back at her.

Mercedes looks around the table and groans. “Where did Hank go now?” She stands up and drifts from the table, weaving through the dining room.

Wynonna claps her hands together. “Well, now that Her Highness has blessed us with her presence, we can do our Saturday morning updates.”

Waverly frowns. “We just did Friday night updates.”

“I wasn’t there for that,” Dolls says.

Wynonna points at him. “Dolls wasn’t there for that, see?” She tips her coffee mug in his direction. “What a man, what a man.”

“Might I remind you, darling, that that man is taken,” Doc says, leaning in to press a kiss to Wynonna’s cheek. He nods at the simple gold band on Dolls’s left hand.

“A sad day for all of us,” Wynonna sighs.

“Indeed it was,” Doc agrees.

“I actually had a great time,” Jeremy says brightly.

“Still thinking about that dance with Doc, Jer?” Wynonna winks.

Nicole rolls her eyes and takes a long sip from her coffee mug, wincing. It’s still hot, the mug nearly scalding in her hand. Alice looks up from her book and smiles at her. Nicole bumps her gently in the shoulder.

“Any good tapes this week?”

Alice sighs. “Mom wouldn’t let me go to Mattie’s without her, and she busy  _ all week _ .”

Nicole sighs heavily. “Moms.”

“They’re the worst,” Alice agrees. She gives Nicole a small smile.

Wynonna moves her index finger in a circle. “Let’s go now,” she demands. She points first at Doc. “John Henry?”

Doc clears his throat and tips his hat. “Thank you, ma’am.” He looks around the table. “I was able to hire Moses Thorton’s younger brother, Noah, and we reopened bay 4 after the… the incident.”

Rosita rolls her eyes. “You make it sound like I blew the place up.”

“You did,” Doc points out. “You mixed water and sodium in one of my gallon buckets.”

“Sodium and water _do_ make a highly reactive exothermic reaction,” Jeremy says. He leans over the table, his smile wide and his eyes sparkling. “Exactly _how_ _much_ sodium did you use?”

Nicole clears her throat loudly, and Jeremy’s eyes widen. He sits back quickly.

“I mean, that’s very, very dangerous,” Jeremy says. He wags his finger, frowning at it as if he’s not sure what he’s doing. “Very dangerous.”

“Noted, Poindexter,” Rosita drawls. “Honestly, Doc. It was a small, contained fire."

“It very nearly caught on those dynamite sticks in the-” Doc stops himself, his cheeks flushed pink. “That is to say, we are very lucky no one was seriously injured.”

“Doc,” Nicole sighs.

Wynonna waves her off. “Oh, don’t worry. We already…  _ disposed _ of those.”

Nicole rubs at the corners of her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please, don’t tell me anything else,” she begs.

“Can’t you, like, leave the Five-O at home?” Wynonna whines. She holds up her hand, her palm flat. “Forget I asked. I already know the answer.”

“Bay 4 is now open for business,” Doc continues. “So you may bring that minivan of yours down to be inspected,” he tells Nathan. “I shall have Noah go over it tailpipe to front fender.”

“Can I expect him on Monday, then?” Nicole asks Doc.

Doc nods. “I do not see any reason why you should not.”

Nicole makes a mental note to have Lonnie pull an extra community service form out of the stack for Monday. She’ll probably send Noah with Moses, out to the Pine Barrens, for his first day, just to get his feet wet.

The community service project was Doc’s idea, one he pitched to Nedley after hammering out some of the finer details with Nicole; things she knew Nedley would ask questions about, and things she knew he’d turn down right away. Nicole had been in the middle of transcribing Mrs. Dray’s statement - another night, another raccoon - when Nedley had poked his head out of his office door and called her in.

“I do thank you for offering to see me,” Doc said, his hat in his hands.

Nedley nodded at Nicole to sit, and she did, turned to face Doc as he paced back and forth across the space.

“It is no surprise that I employ young men of a certain… background,” Doc started.

Nedley snorted. “Blue Devils.”

“Why, yes,” Doc said. “Blue Devils. Since taking the mantle from Wyatt Aper, who took it from his brother Virgil, who had assumed leadership after-”

“You can save us the history lesson, son,” Nedley interrupted. “I know all about the Blue Devils and their leadership.” He scowled for a minute. “Virgil was a thorn in my side when I was a deputy.”

“Right,” Doc said lightly. “Well, it is about time that I step down from the Blue Devils. I have been the head of their organization far longer than most, but I feel it might be time to give someone else a chance at trying their hand.”

Nedley narrowed his eyes, staring at Doc for a long moment. “Who were you thinking?”

“Bat Masterson,” Doc said without hesitation. “He is a smart young man with a good head on his shoulders.”

“And his ear to your mouth,” Nedley finished.

Doc flushed. “I admit that Bat is… amenable to my suggestions.”

Nicole shifted in her seat. “Bat is a good kid. He’s… moldable.”

Doc nodded. “I do believe that I can continue to influence the Blue Devils in a positive direction, while still stepping down from my position. Alice is going on three now, and it is time I shifted my focus to raising my girl.” He slicked his hair back, rubbing his hand down the front of his jeans. “I do still feel a sense of obligation towards those boys, and I would like to stay involved, regardless of leadership.”

Nedley leaned forward, steepling his fingers on the desk. “So, what did you have in mind?”

Doc straightened up, taking a deep breath. “A community service program. A joint operation between the Purgatory Sheriff’s Department and the garage. Any Blue Devil employed at the garage will work four days a week in the shop, and spend two days working for you, on any project you deem fit for them.” He tipped his hat in Nicole’s direction. “I do know, from speaking with Deputy Sheriff Haught, that you have a desire to commit to and complete certain projects, but you lack the manpower.”

Nicole risked a glance at Nedley. She’d talked to Doc one night about the Pine Barrens, and clean-up that needed to happen to make that place look presentable again. The Highway 63 trade had filled up most of the Barrens with homeless people looking for a quick fix, but once they managed to cut off the supply line to the area, everyone faded away - leaving behind a mess. Nicole had been poking at Nedley to let her start a task force to clean it up.  _ Good publicity for the department _ , she had told him. But he’d kept putting it on the back burner, too focused on setting up Nicole’s transition into Sheriff.

She’d only mentioned the idea to Doc in passing; she didn’t think he’d come in and try his hand at convincing Nedley.

“We do, do we?” Nedley hummed. He looked at Nicole for a moment. “I do want to commit to having a cleaner Purgatory, but I don’t have the time to do it.”

“I have the time, and the boys,” Doc said easily. “We can be mutually beneficial to each other.”

Nedley inhaled deeply. “Haught.”

Nicole straightened up. “Yes, sir?”

“I want you to sit down with Mr. Holliday here, and suss out how we can go about utilizing those boys,” he said.

Nicole grinned. “Yes, sir.” She stood up, nodding at Doc. “We can use the conference room.”

“I have suggestions on matching boys up according to their strengths,” Doc said, already on his way out of Nedley’s office. “I shall hope that with the right consideration, they will be their most valuable to this community.”

Nicole nodded, excited. “We’ll start with the Pines and work out way out from there,” she said, following him.

“Haught,” Nedley shouted after her.

She paused, poking her head back into his office. “Sir?”

Nedley stared at her for a long moment before his lips twitched in something like a smile. “Taking the initiative,” he said. “It’s a good skill to have.”

“You taught me how, sir,” Nicole said kindly.

Nedley snorted. “No, I didn’t. Now, get out of here before I call you insubordinate for going behind my back.” He winked at her, turning his chair around to stare at the large map of Purgatory on his office wall. 

Nicole nods at Doc, squeezing Alice’s shoulder. “If he’s old enough to sign the permission slip for himself-”

“He is of age.”

Nicole grins. “Perfect. Send him down, then.”

“Another one bites the dust,” Wynonna signs.

Nicole rolls her eyes. “And what about you?”

Wynonna shifts in her seat. “What about me?” she asks, shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth.

“How’s that class you’re taking?” Nicole asks. She sips at her coffee again, sighing when it doesn’t scald her mouth. “Still getting A’s?”

Wynonna scoffs. “As if.” She chews her bacon noisily. “A pluses.”

“Excuse me,” Nicole says contritely. She meets Chrissy’s eyes across the long table and winks. 

“Wynonna?”

Wynonna turns and looks at Amanda, one of the waitresses, holding a plate of food. “Sup?”

Amanda looks down at the plate. “I have a customer who isn’t crazy about their breakfast,” she says quietly. She glances around the table, wincing. “Sorry for interrupting. It’s just that it’s Mr. Wright, and-”

“It’s cool,” Wynonna says easily, slipping out of her seat. Something in her face changes, and she goes from Wynonna-the-pain-in-the-ass to Wynonna-the-Boss. She takes the plate from Amanda and rests a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t even worry about it,” she assures her. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Hi,” Amanda breathes, eyes lingering on Nicole before they scan the rest of the table.

“Hey,” Waverly says brightly. “How’re you?” She looks pointedly at Amanda’s stomach, the baby bump stretching her apron out.

Amanda sighs and rests a hand on her side. “I feel like someone shoved a football under my stomach and then punted it.”

Chrissy grins. “I felt like that, too.” She smooths a hand over the head of the little boy next to her, his hat sliding off a little.

Rand pouts up at her, pulling the beige bucket hat down tight over his forehead, the stiff fabric pushing his ears out. He’s got Perry’s smile and Chrissy’s eyes and Nedley’s love of fishing, and he’s caught more at age four than Nicole has ever tried to catch in her life. The hat he’s wearing has a stitched fishing rod on it,  _ Moose Lake _ beneath it. “Ma,” he mumbles. “My hat.”

“Of course,” Chrissy says, shaking her head. “How silly of me.”

He keeps looking up at her. “I’m a football?”

Chrissy rubs a hand over his shoulder. “No, baby. But you used to be shaped like one.”

“Don’t be silly,” Nedley says gruffly. “You were shaped like a pike fish.”

Rand grins widely and nods, satisfied.

Waverly looks back up at Amanda. “Is Benji excited?”

Nathan snorts. “He won’t stop talking about it.” He waves Amanda off when she flushes, embarrassed. “Talks through clock in, talks through his shift. Talks through lunch and breaks and on his way to the parking lot.”

“He built a crib last weekend,” Amanda says.

Nicole catches Doc’s eye, and they both look away quickly.

“He’s working overtime,” Amanda continues. “And I’m picking up a few more shifts, so I can take some time off when the baby comes.”

“He’ll have all the time he needs,” Nathan says firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Amanda smiles widely. “Benji says you’re the best forearm there is.”

“Assistant foreman,” Nathan corrects.

“Only until he’s up for review,” Mercedes chimes in. She bounces the three-year-old in her arms, dropping him into Nathan’s lap with an  _ oof _ . “Found him at the jukebox.”

“I want Halen,” Hank says, scowling.

“You can listen to Van Halen later,” Nathan promises him. He pulls Hank’s plate across the table and gestures to it. “But you need to eat your toast and stop running off like that.”

Mercedes looks up at Amanda. “This is why I don’t let Nathan watch him.”

“Hey,” Nathan protests. “Dads can be good, you know.”

“Oh, it’s nothing against  _ dads _ ,” Mercedes fires back. “I have a list.” She starts counting on her fingers. “You, Wynonna, my mother, my father, Rosita-”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Rosita protests. “Me and Hanky are best buddies.”

“Because you both have  _ likes explosions _ in common,” Mercedes says flatly.

Rosita reaches out her arm, her hand curled tightly into a fist. “He’s a man of good taste, right?”

Hank reaches over his plate, his elbow in his ketchup, and fist-bumps Rosita. “That’s ‘ight,” he says through a mouthful of toast.

Amanda smiles. “I think Benji’ll be okay. If anything, he’s already a little too much.”

Mercedes nods knowingly. “So, he’s a Nicole and not a Nathan.”

Nicole’s mouth drops open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mercedes rolls her eyes. “ _ Don’t stomp your feet, Mercedes. You’ll hurt the baby _ ,” she mocks. “ _ Oh, don’t eat so much hot sauce. I read it can give the baby hiccups _ .”

Nicole feels her face flush. “I wanted to know. And you’re the one who gave me those books in the first place,” she accuses.

Mercedes shrugs. “You said you needed a door stopper for the Sheriff’s department, and Nathan wasn’t reading them.”

Wynonna sits back down heavily, her chair scraping against the tiled floor. She sighs, rubbing her hand over her face. “God, I’m too old,” she murmurs.

Nicole frowns. “You okay?”

Wynonna shrugs a shoulder. “Cecil got upset about his hash and eggs,” she says. “Claims he didn’t order it.”

Nicole frowns. “He  _ always _ orders hash and eggs.”

“Thanks, Five-O,” Wynonna mutters. “I  _ know _ that. Everyone knows that. It’s the one thing in this town I can always count on. It’s Saturday, and Cecil orders hash and eggs and a black coffee, like clockwork. The only thing more predictable than that is…” She snorts, nodding at Nicole. “Well, you.”

Nicole wrinkles her nose. “No, I’m not.”

Wynonna points at the plate in front of Nicole. “Did you order that?”

Nicole looks down. “What? No.”

“No.  _ Mercedes _ ordered it. Because you get the same thing. Every. Single. Week.” Wynonna rolls her eyes. “I could have ordered it. Chrissy could have ordered it. Nedley could have-   _ Rand _ could have ordered it.”

Rand looks up at his name. “Is it fishin’ time?”

Nedley claps him gently on the shoulder. “Just about, son.” He picks up his coffee mug and drains the rest of it in a single gulp. “Now. Now it’s time.”

Rand shoves the rest of the bacon in his hand into his mouth and chews with his mouth open, climbing down out of his chair. “Fishing!” he shouts.

Perry shakes his head, catching Rand as he runs past him. “You remember what I told you?”

“Catch and release,” Rand recites.

Nedley scowls. “Where’s the humanity in that?”

“The  _ humanity _ is in the-”

“Not now,” Chrissy says wearily. “Please? Per, just… Just let them fish, okay?”

Perry’s jaw clicks as he tightens it, but he nods, kissing Rand on the side of the head and drops his hand over Chrissy’s on the table. Nicole watches their fingers lace, and she takes a long sip from her coffee, meeting Waverly’s eye. Waverly smiles softly, her hands working through Hayley’s hair, braiding the ends.

Nedley lets Rand run ahead, and Nicole barely picks up the soft chime of the bell above the door. She takes a minute to sit back in her seat and look around. The Patch looks exactly the same as it did the first day she walked in, seven-years-old and wide-eyed. The same posters are on the wall, and the same big neon tomato is still burning in the big front window that faces Main Street. 

The same pictures litter the mirror behind the counter, with new ones peppered in. There’s the one of her, Wynonna, Waverly, and Curtis, pinned next to one with Hayley, Alice, Hank, Rand, and Wynonna. There’s one of Waverly and Nicole on their wedding day, Nicole holding Alice on her lap, Nicole posing with her Pontiac a few months before it died. There’s another of Gus and Curtis, a few years after Nicole met them, and one of Gus and her sister in Alberta. There’s one of Doc and Rosita, showing off the new sign over the garage, the one that reads ‘Holliday and Bustillos’ in large, bold letters. 

Her favorite, though, is the one tacked just above the old register, taken last year on the Saturday before Nedley’s retirement. She’s not sure how Amanda got them all in the shot, but every single face is packed into the small Polaroid: Nicole and Waverly squished onto the same chair, Alice sitting on Nicole’s shoulders; Doc and Wynonna are curled together in the front of the pack, smiling widely; Rosita is hanging off of Nedley, Nedley’s face bright red; Jeremy and Dolls are leaning into each, their rings sparkling; Perry and Chrissy are holding Rand up in front of them, the little boy grinning; Hayley is trying to balance Hank in her lap, Nathan and Mercedes hovering behind her; Gus is at the other end, an arm around Joan’s shoulder and a soft smile on her face as she looks across the group at Wynonna. 

There’s something in Nicole’s chest that tightens every time she looks at that picturing, imagining where Curtis would stand.

“I think his Alzheimer’s is getting worse,” Wynonna mutters in Nicole’s ear. “Cecil, I mean.”

Nicole scans the diner, spotting Cecil at his usual seat, the fourth stool at the counter. He’s frowning down at his plate of french toast, poking at it. She makes a note to stop by his house later; just a drive-by, a check-in. 

“How about them Blue Jays?” Nathan asks through a mouthful of food. 

Perry rolls his eyes, slumping back in his seat.

Chrissy leans into his side, patting his knee. “He just thinks catch and release is better because he doesn’t like it when Rand comes home covered in fish scales.”

Perry shudders. “Why can’t he take up golf, like every other Crofte?”

“Because he’s a Nedley,” Chrissy sighs happily.

“And your father never lets me forget it,” Perry mutters.

Chrissy narrows her eyes. “My father-”

Nicole leans forward, her mug clenched tightly in her hand. “How’s your dad, Perry?”

Perry looks at her for a moment, blinking hard before he answers. “He’s fine. They moved into one of those housing developments. In Edmonton. Brentwood Village, I think.”

Wynonna whistles. “I heard about that place. It’s fancy.”

Perry shrugs. “I guess so. Mostly just means I have to sell off the rest of the furniture they left behind.”

Jeremy swats Dolls excitedly. “We’re looking for furniture.”

“It’s hideous,” Chrissy says slowly.

Dolls shrugs a shoulder. “It’s fine. Jeremy blew up the last set. We might as well buy something we don’t like.”

“I didn’t  _ blow it up _ ,” Jeremy says firmly. “I set fire to it.”

“Oh, because that matters,” Dolls says flatly.

“There’s a distinction,” Nicole points out.

Alice pauses in her book, looking up at Nicole. “What’s that?”

“A distinction is like... “ Nicole pauses, trying to remember what Curtis told her. “It’s a difference. Between two things.”

Alice thinks about it for a moment and then nods. “Okay.”

“Be sure you remember that, when you’re older.”

Alice frowns. “I never want to grow up.”

Nicole grins back at her. “I said get old. Not grow up.”

Alice closes her book. “What’s the… the disfunction?””

“Distinction,” Nicole corrects. “And there’s a big one. It’s like… your mom got  _ old, _ but she didn’t grow up.”

Alice nods slowly. “Oh. I get it.”

“I should be offended by that,” Wynonna says.

Nicole shrugs. “But you’re not.”

“I’m not,” Wynonna agrees.

“Auntie Chrissy grew up, though,” Alice continues. “She has a real person job, right?”

Chrissy winks at Wynonna across the table. “I do have a real person job.”

“I do, too!” Wynonna says defensively.

Alice stares at her. “You listen to music all day and tell Bobo what to do.”

Wynonna fakes a yawn, stretching her arms above her head. “It’s the hardest job any of you will ever do. Imagine, listening to Supertramp  _ all. Day. Long. _ ” She wrinkles her nose. “Even the radio station doesn’t play Supertramp anymore.”

“Aunt Chrissy is the bank boss, though,” Alice argues.

“Vice President,” Chrissy corrects quickly. “I’m only the Vice President.”

“See?” Wynonna jabs a finger in Chrissy’s direction. “She’s  _ only _ the Vice President.”

“It still has President in the title,” Alice says. She puts her book down on the table and Nicole sighs. She’s got her Waverly-face on, the one she wears when she’s got something to prove, and nothing is going to stop her. She shifts in her seat, kneeling now. “Uncle Jeremy runs the whole marmacy.”

“Pharmacy,” Waverly corrects.

“The whole pharmacy. And Uncle Dolls has his own gym,” Alice continues.

Alice’s voice fades out as Nicole stops listening for a moment, her mind turning. They’ve all done well for themselves, a far cry from the kids they used to be in high school. When she was seventeen, she thought she’d never amount to much - too scared to tell Waverly how she felt, too scared to leave town, too scared to go after the things she wanted. The things she wanted have never been far away; she hardly needs to leave Purgatory. But at seventeen, they all felt like things only other people could have, things only other people deserved.

She twists her wedding ring on her finger. It’s been eight years since she married Waverly. It’s been nearly 16 years since their first kiss, and over 20 since she realized what love feels like, what love walking in really means. Sometimes, if she blinks too hard, she thinks it might just all go away.

But then Wynonna laughs, and Nicole knows it won’t ever go away; not anymore. Wynonna is running The Patch, and it’s thriving; her motorcycle is parked in the back near the dumpsters, and she only really takes it out to keep the engine running. Nicole knows she wants to get out on the road again someday, but Alice is eight, and Purgatory is all she’s ever known. They’ll spend nights on the roof of Gus’s house, just for old time’s sake, and talk about what they’ll do when Alice is older, when it’s her turn to watch the ‘Now Leaving Purgatory’ sign disappear in her rearview mirror. 

“She’ll go somewhere amazing,” Wynonna will always say. “Somewhere far away from here.”

_ Here’s not so bad _ , a part of Nicole wants to scream. It’s a part of herself that’s quieted in the last ten years, that’s settled down and looked around and realized that the people who love her have come back every time they’ve left. 

Wynonna came back. 

Waverly came back. 

Alice will, too. 

“You can tell her where you’ve been. She’d like that,” Nicole will say back. “She wants to be you when she grows up.”

Wynonna will laugh and shake it off, rolling her eyes and usually unrolling Nicole’s sleeve just for the hell of it, but Nicole knows better. While there’s a part of Wynonna that thinks Alice wanting to grow up and be just like her is totally the tits, there’s another, bigger part of Wynonna that’s terrified she’ll mess up and Alice will follow in those same footsteps.

That part of Wynonna only rears its head after a few drinks, when they’re one more bottle away from sliding off the roof onto the grass below. She’ll swing her arms back and forth, listing all the reasons why she’s the world’s worst role model. Nicole will let her go, gently prying the bottle from her hand, and remind her that she’s exactly the role model she should want for her daughter: strong and brave and independent.

She’s exactly the woman Curtis would have wanted her to be.

“I’m not married,” Wynonna will point out.

Nicole will shrug. “Are you going to leave Doc?"

Wynonna will stare at her, wide-eyed. “Of course not.”

“Is he going to leave you?”

Wynonna will shake her head. “He better not.”

“He won’t,” Nicole will promise.

Doc would never. He has Wynonna and Alice. He has a business. He has his friends and his family here, and Nicole knows he wouldn’t give it up for the world. Even though Old Man Bustillos stepped down, Rosita stepped up, and the business hasn’t skipped a beat. There’s Blue Devils in the garage bays, and even more of them helping to clean up the parks and the riverbeds and the Pine Barrens. 

Most of the Revenants have faded out; the drugs running up and down Highway 63 took the majority of them when the supply to Purgatory started to dry, and the rest grew up, turning in their red bandanas for punch cards at the factory. There’s a few that hang around, older and angier and wasting their time at Pussy Willows, hanging around outside in their muscle cars and their leather jackets. Nicole knows that Jonas hangs out there, holding up the bar and reminiscing about the glory days.

She looks around the table slowly, at the same faces she’s been looking at every Saturday morning for ten years. 

Dolls is running his own gym now. It’s on Main Street, two doors down from where Mattie’s place is. He’s got a whole setup, and he runs some classes. Even the classy ladies from the Purgatory Country Club come down and park their shiny Benzs on the street just to come watch Dolls flex. Jeremy is in charge of the pharmacy now that he has his degree. Dr. Reggie had disappeared one night a few years ago when Joyce Arbor’s body was found out in the woods by a passing hiker. Nicole still shudders when she remembers that call out; when she tries to reconcile the woman she knew when she was younger with the one they found, barely recognizable. 

Perry is still working for his dad, but Nicole knows he’ll take over the company when Mr. Crofte officially retires in a month or two. Since they’ve moved to Edmonton, he’s been running the office remotely, leaving Perry in charge of the day-to-day operations. Nicole even convinced him to install a closed-circuit television security system, and they put it in a month ago. 

Gus swears she’ll retire someday and get on a plane and travel the whole world. Waverly always laughs when Gus says it, rolling her eyes and claiming that Gus will never leave The Patch; that she’ll never leave Purgatory. But Nicole knows she’s been checking out travel sites on the computer they installed in the office, making lists of places Curtis said he wanted to go someday, concerts he wanted to see. 

Her mom has been talking about tagging along, too. Nicole doesn’t know if she’ll go; she takes Hayley and Hank every weekend, and hates to miss having them sleepover. Nicole tries to go over for Sunday breakfast every week, squishing into her childhood kitchen with Nathan, Mercedes, Hayley, Hank, Waverly, and Styx. She leans back against the counter and watches everyone: Nathan and her mom dancing around the stove; Mercedes and Waverly talking as they set the table; Hank sitting on the floor and leaning back against Styx while Hayley quizzes Nicole on the songs playing. 

Eight-year-old Nicole remembers how empty this kitchen felt, right after her dad left. Fifteen-year-old Nicole remembers the nights she and Nathan would eat alone, her mom working a double shift. Thirty four-year-old Nicole has to shout to be heard over the radio on the counter, and split her attention between Hayley and Hank, the two of them hanging off her legs or arms.

Nathan is still the assistant foreman at the factory, but this year his coworkers elected him the union representative, and he’s been taking it really seriously. Mercedes owns Gardner Realty now, and she’s been helping Mattie negotiate the sale of The Forge to that couple that moved up to Purgatory to open a law office, Wilma and Kenneth Staelens. At first, Nicole had refused to talk to Mercedes about it, claiming she was an accomplice in the murder of an industry. But Mattie sat her down and explained it all - how there wasn’t a market anymore; how sales have been going down for years; how sometimes, you just need to call it like it is  _ and the shop is ready, Nicole _ , Mattie had said.

_ I’m not ready _ , Nicole thinks.  _ I’m not ready to let go of the store _ .

She’s not ready to let go of the memories, of Curtis leading her through the rows of tapes. She’s not ready to let go of all the time she spent there - hiding underneath the tables after Curtis died, or showing Shae where Mattie keeps all the really good tapes, or what it’s like to spend the morning with a cold Orange Crush and a new tape in Mattie’s Walkman, deciding if she wants to buy it or not. 

The bell above the door chimes again as it it opens. Nicole’s grip on the back of Alice’s chair tightens a little bit when she spots Champ coming in, his arm low around Stephanie Jones’s waist. Kyle and Pete York are trailing after him, Samantha Baker curled around Pete’s arm.

“Some things never change,” Wynonna mutters.

Champ slinks past their table, lifting his chin at Waverly with a smirk on his face. 

“Hi, Sheriff,” Samantha coos.

“Samantha,” Waverly says sharply.

Samantha’s eyes barely cut to Waverly. “Oh, hey, Waverly didn’t see you there.”

“She never does,” Wynonna says under her breath. She gasps when something makes a  _ thud _ under the table and slides her chair back, rubbing at her shin. “Shit ticket, Waverly.”

“Shit ‘icket!” Hank shouts.

Wynonna’s eyes widen. “Oh, I’m-”

Mercedes waves her off. “Swearing is the least of my worries,” she says. “At least he’s not a raging misogynist, you know?”

“Feminism,” Nathan mutters. “It’s all we talk about in my house now.”

“It’s what we  _ all _ should be talking about,” Mercedes argues.

“We should all be talking about how Coach Allenbach retired and  _ Champ Hardy _ got the job,” Wynonna says. “I mean, on one hand, I’m glad he retired those shorts. Because it was  _ not _ attractive towards the end, there. But Champ, really?”

Nicole scowls just a little. Waverly had told her at the start of the school year, after her meeting with the other department heads, that Champ had been hired to fill Coach Allenbach’s vacant position.

“I mean,” Waverly had said cautiously. “He  _ is _ qualified for the job.”

Nicole had rolled her eyes. 

“And if he’s not doing security at the bank, anymore, you can go see Mr. Hebert about that intern program you’ve been talking about,” Waverly said. She walked her fingers down the front of Nicole’s uniform shirt. “Think about it. Your new recruits, cutting their teeth while working extra shifts at the bank that they can apply to their probationary period hours before you put them out on patrol?” She smiled widely at Nicole. “ _ And _ , you’d be providing a service to the community.” She leaned in, her mouth against Nicole’s ear. “You know how much you love to provide service to the community.”

Nicole snorted and pushed Waverly away by the hips, kissing her on the top of the head before she let go. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll think about it. But if Champ gives you any trouble, you-”

“Will let my wife, the  _ Sheriff _ , know about it right away,” Waverly promised. “But, just so you know, we’ve all grown up a lot since high school.”

Champ had been by Waverly’s classroom two days later, leaning on her desk in the middle of her senior class lesson, asking her out. 

_ Some people have changed _ , Nicole admits, looking around the table again. Her eyes drift to a table across the room where Champ, Stephanie, Samantha, and the York brothers are sitting. Pete blows a straw wrapper at Kyle, laughing when it hits Kyle in the forehead. They’re both in their Purgatory Animal Control t-shirts, sleeves torn off and their hats on.  _ And some people haven’t _ , she thinks.

Alice slumps back down in her seat, elbowing Nicole. “Right, Aunt Nicole?”

“Right,” Nicole says absently. “That’s right, sweetie.”

Alice beams at Wynonna. “See, mom? Aunt Nicole thinks Devo is the underrated band of her time.”

Nicole blinks. “Wait.  _ Wait a minute _ ,” she hisses.

Everyone laughs and Nicole sighs.

_ Some things never change _ , she thinks.

 

-

Nicole pauses on her walk through the bullpen, head tipped to one side as she listens to Lonnie. He adjusts his headset, his voice calm and measured as he writes down whatever he’s hearing on the other end of the line. 

“No, ma’am, I assure you. We will be sending an officer by in just a moment. If I can have you give me the closest mile marker near you, I can-” Lonnie pauses, nodding. “I understand. Just before the town line, okay.” He spins his chair, scanning the schedule pinned to the board next to him. “I have an officer nearby, and I will send him that way. Thank you for your call.”

Lonnie disconnects the call, flipping another tab on the switchboard in front of him. “Conlin?”

“10-4,” comes Conlin’s scratchy reply.

Nicole makes a mental note to talk to the Mayor about updating their dispatch system.

“I have a 10-92 out on Rt. 81, just before the town line.”

Conlin is quiet for a moment before he radios back in. “Vehicle description?”

Lonnie checks the note in front of him. “A red 1992 Ford Tempo. Caller reported that the front driver’s side tire is missing.”

“10-4,” Conlin copies. “Proceed with caution?”

Lonnie taps his pencil against the switchboard. “Proceed with caution,” he finally says. “Caller stated there was no visual on an occupant, but we’ve been getting lots of call outs there lately.” He scratches the back of his neck.

Conlin sighs over the radio. “10-4. I’m 10-76 and I’ll let you know when I arrive on scene.”

“Got it,” Lonnie says, pulling his headset down around his neck. He twists in his chair, catching sight of Nicole. “Oh, hey, Sheriff.”

Nicole leans against the long counter separating the bullpen from the front lobby. “Hey, Lonnie. Another drifter?”

“Probably.” Lonnie sighs, stretching his arms over his head. Nicole winces when his shoulders pop. “Conlin is headed to check it out.”

Nicole nods slowly. “Do you mind giving Newt at the Tabor a call? See if he has a spare room. If it is a drifter, they’re probably coming down off something and need a place to stay.”

Lonnie is already scribbling down a note, nodding at her. “Sure thing, Sheriff.” He taps his pencil end against the switchboard, and Nicole waits, knowing there’s something he wants to say, something to get off his chest. “Hey, Sheriff?”

“Yeah?” Nicole puts down the file in her hand, resting her elbow on the counter. 

“Why do we keep dropping them off at Tabor’s Motel?” Lonnie asks. He glances around the bullpen. 

It’s empty, going on the end of shift, and there’s no one at their desk except for Kate Riley, the new rookie. She’s bent over a file, a pen underlining every other sentence. Nicole likes her. She’s driven and hardworking and not afraid of the ribbing the guys are constantly giving her.  _ She’ll do just fine _ , Nicole thinks to herself.

“I mean,” Lonnie continues. “Some of them don’t even stay. They’re off in the back of the next truck that passes through.”

“Some of them do,” Nicole says quietly.

Lonnie is right: some of them leave. Nicole has had a deputy drop someone off and get them settled into a room for the night, pressing the address of the local joint Narcotics and Alcoholics Anonymous meeting on a card into their hand. She’ll swing by in the morning, and the room will be empty - the mattress stripped and the small soaps in the bathroom gone. Nicole always pays Newt a little bit extra not to throw a fit about those guests, putting aside a little bit of her paycheck each week. 

She pays him the difference for the sheets and the soaps and fills the room by the end of the night. She tries to get Nathan out to them as soon as possible; the quicker they meet someone else who got out onto the other side, the longer they stay. Some nights, she’s slept in her 1988 red and tan Ford Bronco, the one she inherited from Nedley when he passed on the title of Sheriff, while Nathan spent the night talking to whomever was inside that room. She never asks him what they talk about, but she drives him home and has a coffee in the kitchen and kisses her niece and nephew in the morning before she crawls back into her own bed, to her own wife. 

Some of them stay, though. Josh Stathis, Mikey Cruz; they each got jobs down at the factory with Nathan, and they share an apartment on Main Street, near the post office. Ray Duran picked up shifts with Purgatory Department of Public Works, collecting garbage. Will Fredo is pumping gas at the Esso gas station by Rt. 81. Eric Lyndon sweeps Cal’s Corner up at the end of the night, and spends the days volunteering at the library.

Nicole keeps those names in the front of her mind, slowing down on her patrols when she sees them. She likes to say hi, likes to check in. And it guarantees they’ll stay at least another week, if she makes a point to come by regularly. 

“But not all of them,” Lonnie says.

Nicole shrugs. “You can’t help people who don’t want to be helped, Lonnie. But you sure as hell can offer the first hand and see if they’ll take it.”

Lonnie grins at her. “Makes sense, you know.”

Nicole frowns, her fingertips drumming a beat against the counter. “What does?”

“Why you’re Sheriff now.” Lonnie nods to himself. “Yes ma’am, it does. You got the people in mind.”

“You do, too,” Nicole points out. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be a deputy.”

Lonnie picks at his headset. “Uh, that’s Dispatcher Lonnie, to you. Ma’am,” he adds quickly.

“Deputy Stuckey, Dispatch,” Nicole corrects. She looks past Lonnie, to the small golden plaque on the wall behind him. “Linda was a deputy, too.”

Lonnie looks to the plaque, nodding his head slightly in a quiet salute. “She was the best we had.”

“She was,” Nicole says softly.

_ The Doucette Dispatch Switchboard. Dedicated to Deputy Linda Doucette, for her many years of exceptional service _ , the plaque reads. Underneath it is a Polaroid of Linda and Nicole, taken on the night Nicole was officially promoted to Sheriff of Purgatory. There had been a party, and Linda had forced a grumbling, 18-year-old Cub - freshly graduated from high school - to take as many pictures as Linda had film. This one was Nicole’s favorite; she had hung it up after Linda passed, just a few months later. 

There’s another in her office, one of Linda and Nedley and all of the guys - Conlin, Pine, Diaz, Landry, and Lonnie - and her, from the night of her wedding. That one is framed, sitting on her desk in the mess of pictures she has there: her and Waverly with Styx; her and Alice in her cruiser; her and Wynonna and Doc at the garage; everyone at breakfast on Saturday; her and Curtis in front of Mattie’s; her and her mom and Nathan. Some nights, when she’s staring at cold cases and crime reports she printed off the CPIC, she looks at the pictures and remembers why she wanted to be a cop; why she wants to keep being a cop.  

“I think we’re all better at our jobs because of her,” Lonnie says. His face flushes for a moment as he thinks about what he said. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean,” Nicole says kindly. “And I think you’re right.” She takes a deep breath. “Will you tell me when you know more about Conlin’s pickup?”

Lonnie straightens up, his shoulders pulling back. “Of course, ma’am.” He pulls the headset back over his ears and turns back to the switchboard, flipping a tab and clearing his throat. “Conlin?” he calls.

Nicole listens to the radio crackle and Conlin’s voice come over the wire. “Go for Conlin.”

“Status report?”

“I’m just pulling up behind the vehicle,” Conlin says. “There appears to be a single occupant, and he is outside of the car.” There’s a pause. “I’m going to go find out more.”

Lonnie looks back over his shoulder. “Want me to call Newt?”

“You better,” Nicole sighs, rubbing at the back of her neck. 

Lonnie stares at her for another moment. “Anyone ever tell you that you rub at the back of your neck when you’re tired?”

Nicole laughs softly. “Must rub the back of my neck a lot, then.”

Lonnie smiles crookedly. “You do.” He turns in his seat and picks up the desk phone next to him, punching in the number for Tabor’s Motel. 

Nicole grips the file in her hand a little tighter as she makes her way through the bullpen. Kate Riley is still leaning over the same folder, a pen in her hand. Nicole watches her a for a moment, seeing herself sitting there. She gave Kate that desk for a reason - the same reason Linda had directed her towards it on her first day. 

_ Got to be in the middle of it all, girl, _ Linda had said.  _ And besides, this here was my desk when I started out, before I moved to the switchboard. Figure it’ll bring you luck _ .

Nicole had said the same thing to Kate on her first day, leading her over to the desk situated directly in the middle of the bullpen. It wasn’t until she went back into her office and peeked through the folding blinds that she realized that same desk was right in front of the window.

Nedley had been able to see every move she ever made over the years.

_ Sneaky bastard _ , she’d thought, looking at his picture on her desk. 

She stands carefully over Kate’s shoulder, peering at the reports Kate is reading.

Kate pauses at the shadow that bleeds over her work. “Oh, hey, Sheriff,” she says, looking up.

“Kate,” Nicole nods. She sits down, one hip on Pine’s desk.  _ He won’t mind _ , she thinks. “So? It’s been three months. What do you think so far?”

Kate breathes in deeply, sitting up a little taller. “Purgatory is…”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “What? Tired? Run down?” 

Kate’s eyes widen. “I was going to say it’s own little center of the universe,” she admits.

Nicole’s shoulders slump. “Oh,” she breathes. She shakes her head. “Sorry. It’s…”

“Lonnie said,” Kate says quietly. “Three years?”

Nicole gives Kate a tight smile. “Three years.” She thinks back to three years ago, standing in almost the exact same spot as she wished Linda goodnight.

“Haven’t had a good night since my Bud passed away,” Linda grumbled. She hobbled around the end of the counter, pausing to fix Nicole with a face that said, “ _ Don’t you say a word _ .” She jabbed a finger in Nicole’s direction. “I’m coming in late tomorrow, you hear me?”

Nicole nodded contritely. “I’m sorry for asking you to work today,” she said for the tenth time in an hour.

Linda waved her off. “I understand. Lonnie’ll get better at it, I know it.” She snorted. “Boy might not be a genius behind the wheel on patrol, but he’s got a knack for dispatching. It was a smart move, Sheriff.”

“Still,” Nicole continued. “I know today is-”

“Bud has been gone for over 30 years now,” Linda said firmly. “I was bound to come into work on the anniversary of his death one of these times.”

Nicole rubbed at the back of her neck. “Well, why don’t you take tomorrow off, okay?” she suggested.

Linda paused, bending slightly to rub at her hip. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “But only because I reckon you’d drive me home if I came in.”

Nicole smiled a little wider. “Yes, ma’am, I probably would.”

“All you youngsters, with your sassiness and your self-righteousness.” Linda winked at her. “Don’t ever be like the rest of them, you hear me?”

Nicole crossed her finger over her chest. “And hope to die.”

“Let’s hope I go first,” Linda muttered. “Hate to think that maybe, just to get back at me, you’d stick Lonnie in that Sheriff’s office.”

Nicole laughed and waved Linda off for the rest of the night, turning back to the latest printout from the CPIC - cocaine was on a slow decline in the rural areas of the province, and the numbers were finally steady in the city, dropping in some of the outlying suburban areas.

Pine came flying through the front doors, his hat knocked off his head and his radio spinning out of his shoulder holster. “Sheriff!” he shouted, hunched over on his hands and knees. “You better- It’s Linda.”

She remembers calling Drew and Scoot and cursing when they told her they were responding to a call up at the Pine Barrens - an overdose. She remembers lifting Linda carefully and settling her in the back of her Bronco, Pine behind the wheel as they threw on the sirens and raced to the hospital. She remembers calling Cub, standing in front of the same payphone she’d used to call Waverly and Gus on the day Alice was born. She remembers him storming the emergency department, his hockey uniform still on, and crashing into her.

She remembers the way the doctor came out and shook his head; the way Cub slid out of her arms; the way they both hit the floor; the way she sat there until he felt like he could stand up again.

Kate clears her throat softly. “Sheriff?”

Nicole blinks hard. “Sorry,” she mumbles. She straightens up, lifting up off of Pine’s desk. “You would have liked Linda, I think.” She snorts. “She would have liked you.”

Kate smiles hesitantly. “You think so?”

Nicole nods. “I know so.” 

Kate sighs, dropping her pencil onto her desk. “Can I ask you something, Sheriff?”

Nicole pauses. “Of course you can. What’s on your mind?”

Kate gestures to the report on her desk. “I know the numbers say that there’s a decrease in motor and property theft across the country, and in this province, but Rt. 81 and the stretch leading out to Highway 63 are  _ littered _ with broken down cars, most with missing plates, which probably means they’re stolen...” She frowns. “So, is there inaccurate reporting?”

Nicole shakes her head. “It’s just…” She sighs. “It’s uninformed reporting,” she says carefully.

Kate stares at her for a moment, not blinking. “Uninformed,” she repeats.

Nicole nods. “Uninformed. Like…” She shifts in her seat. “Okay, last week. You were out with Pine, right? And you two came across that-”

“‘82 Volkswagon Rabbit,” Kate finishes. “No plate. Tires gone.”

“Right. And do you remember who you found using it as shelter?”

Kate’s forehead wrinkles as she thinks. “Court Wright,” she says slowly.

Nicole snaps her fingers. “And Court Wright is the grandson of Cecil and Frida Wright. Belongs to their daughter, Cynthia Wright.” Nicole shrugs. “So, the car wasn’t catalogued as ‘stolen’,” she says, making air quotes around the word. “Because Cecil and Frida both don’t drive anymore, and the car’s registration lapsed. It wasn’t stolen, necessarily. It was taken by family, by someone who was listed as an occasional operator on the insurance, the last time it was insured.”

“So,” Kate starts slowly. “Most of those cars-”

“Are registered in Purgatory. And they belong to citizens of Purgatory, who just lost their way. And their engines, it seems,” Nicole adds.

Kate shakes her head. “Wow. I can’t believe you figured that out.”

“Lonnie is the one who figured it out, actually,” Nicole admits.

“Lonnie is, like,  _ really _ good at his job,” Kate sighs.

Nicole snorts. “He’s good at dispatch, or when he has time to spread things out in front of him and  _ think _ . But you should have seen him on patrol.”

Kate stares up at her. “A mess?”

Nicole shakes her head slowly, a grin tugging at her lips. “I’m not at liberty to say,” she says diplomatically.

“Sheriff.” Lonnie’s voice rings through the bullpen.

Nicole turns around, grinning when she spots Waverly. “Hey, you. I didn’t know you were coming by.”

Waverly holds up a paper bag. “I knew you were working late. And then I saw Conlin, and he said he was headed out to check out an abandoned vehicle by the line, and I figured you’d be going with Nathan to Tabor’s, so-” She inhales loudly. “So that’s a really roundabout way of saying I brought you dinner.”

Something in Nicole’s chest goes soft and pliant at the words. Waverly’s smile is wide, stretching across her face, and for a moment, Nicole forgets that she’s the Sheriff - she’s seventeen instead, and Waverly is in the back of her Pontiac, staring up at Nicole as everything changes between them.

“Well, come on,” she finally says, snapping out of it. She nods towards her office.

Waverly comes around the counter, stopping near Lonnie. “Just a minute,” she tells Nicole absently. “A turkey on wheat with extra pickles for you, Officer Stuckey.”

Lonnie grins. “Oh, wow, Ms. Earp. You didn’t have to.”

Waverly smiles. “It was no problem, Lonnie.” She turns to Kate. “And I haven’t gotten a chance to learn your order yet, but Amanda at The Patch says you usually get-”

“Tuna salad on rye with extra coleslaw?” Kate asks hopefully. 

Waverly grins widely. “Clutch,” she breathes.

Kate pauses. “Clutch?”

Nicole groans and curls her fingers around Waverly’s elbow, pulling her towards her office. “Lonnie,” she calls.

“I’m on it, Sheriff,” he says confidently.

“Call Nathan and tell him I’ll come by in fifteen,” Nicole says. She spares a glance at Waverly. “Twenty-five. Tell him twenty-five.”

Waverly closes the door, twisting the lock. She pulls another to-go container out of the paper bag she's holding, placing it on the desk in front of Nicole. “And for you, I got some soup and an Orange Crush.”

Nicole groans. “Soup?”

“You’re going to catch a cold,” Waverly insists. “You’re working crazy hours and the temperature is starting to drop at night and-” Waverly huffs. “When I have  _ ever _ been wrong about you being about to catch a cold?”

Nicole ignores the soup on her desk and grabs for the collar of Waverly’s coat, pulling her close. “I’d rather catch you,” she murmurs.

Waverly looks up at her through her eyelashes, her lips parted. “You already have me,” she breathes. 

“I guess that makes me the luckiest woman in Purgatory,” Nicole says quietly, her bottom lip brushing against Waverly’s.

“It does,” Waverly agrees. She kisses Nicole gently, easing away just as soon as she pushes in, and steps back, putting a chair between them. “But you’re not going to charm me into forgetting that I want you to eat that soup.” She lifts her chin. “For better or for worse, in  _ sickness _ and in health,” she recites.

“Till death do us part,” Nicole finishes.

“You skipped some things in there,” Waverly points out. “And if you ever die before me, I’m going to bring you back to life and kill you myself.”

“Promise?” Nicole teases.

“I do,” Waverly promises.

“I do, too,” Nicole says. She leans across the back of the chair, catching Waverly’s chin. She brushes her lips across Waverly’s, her tongue darting out for just a moment, and then she pulls back, grinning.

“If I eat this soup in the next five minutes, we still have fifteen minutes to, uh…” Nicole trails off, glancing at the couch pointedly.

“What about your ‘no funny business at work’ rule?”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Making out with my wife is  _ serious _ business. Nothing funny about it.”

“It’s funny when I find that one spot on your side that makes you…” She pokes Nicole hard in the ribs and grins when Nicole jumps. “Do that.”

“Then don’t do that,” Nicole says through clenched teeth. She softens, pushing out her bottom lip. “I’m working overnight,” she whines. “I need something to keep me going.”

Waverly narrows her eyes. “And you don’t mind breaking your rule?” She unzips her coat slowly, peeling it off her shoulders. 

Nicole shakes her head slowly, her mouth dry. “Just kissing, though.”

Waverly snorts. “I knew there was a catch.”

“But kissing isn’t breaking the rule. Kissing is…” She waves her hands in front of her. “Kissing is okay.”

Waverly grins slowly, licking her bottom lip. “Make it four minutes on the soup.”

Nicole peels the lid off the styrofoam container and lifts the whole thing to her mouth, swallowing the chicken stock down in large, burning gulps. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, dropping the empty container into the small trash can by her desk. “Now we have twenty minutes.”

Waverly laughs and it’s the best sound Nicole has ever heard.

 

-

A call comes in on the non-emergency landline as Nicole flips the light switch in her office.

“Oh, hey, Mrs. Dray,” Pine drawls, twisting in his seat to look at Kate. He grins widely at her, nodding towards her coat as if to say, “ _ you’re up, kid _ .”

Kate groans and stands up, already pulling her vest on.

“I will be absolutely sure to send someone over there,” Pine continues. “No, of course it’s not a bother.” He winces. “I know you like Sheriff Haught, Mrs. Dray, but she’s actually just left for the night.”

Nicole pauses at the small table in front of her office, thinking. Mrs. Dray is getting older now, and her barely-sunny disposition is downright mean most of the time. Raccoons crawl up into her still-open trash cans once a week; Nicole is sure that the raccoon she let hide out under her porch ten years ago started a family in his shady spot of the world, and feeds them with the scraps Mrs. Dray never covers up. 

A part of her loves the poetic justice of it all: a raccoon survives Kyle and Pete York, only to bring torment to their protector. Another part of her wishes Mrs. Dray would use locking trash cans.

It’s become tradition to send the rookie out - after Nicole, it was Kevin Metcalfe, who transferred out to Edmonton when his family moved. Then it was Ryan Sullivan, and then Zak Tate. Now it’s Kate Riley, and she huffs and puffs as she tightens her vest around her waist. 

“I’ll send Officer Riley out there ASAP,” Pine says into the receiver. His face flushes and he lowers his voice a little. “No, ma’am. I won’t be coming out there. Yes, I understand that- Yes, ma’am.” He hangs up the phone, his cheeks still pink for a moment. “Well, Riley. You’re up.”

“Has anyone ever thought to call Animal Control?” Kate asks.

Nicole snorts. “That’s how this whole problem started in the first place.”

Kate frowns. “What do you-” She stops herself and shakes her head. “You know what? You can tell me that story the next time we all go out.” She jabs a finger in Pine’s direction. “And don’t think I don’t know she just told you that she doesn’t like when you’re the one handling her calls.”

Pine groans and throws his hands up. “Whatever. She’s a-”

“Citizen of Purgatory,” Nicole says sharply. Pine snaps to attention. “She’s as much of a citizen as Mayor Hamilton, and you’ll treat her as such. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pine says quickly. “I didn’t mean- You know that I like her,” he rushes on. “She just doesn’t like me.”

Nicole smiles quickly, just a hint of a grin. “Oh, Pine. If you keep setting yourself up like that, people’ll just keep knocking you down.”

Kate sighs. “At least this will be the last callout of the shift, right?” She tightens the strap on her vest and tugs it down into place. “Is anyone going over to new bar on Main after they’re done for the night? Samedi’s, or something?”

Pine and Conlin both raise their hands.

Landry shrugs. “It’s my kid’s birthday, so we’re all going to the new Tasty Tomato place in Edmonton.”

Nicole watches the night shift slip in through the front door. She moved Diaz to nights, put him in charge, and they run about as smoothly as the day does now. Lonnie waves at Todd, the night dispatcher, and starts working through his change-of-shift checklist. Landry and Conlin start cleaning up, clearing off their desks and filing things into piles for the morning. Pine clicks away at his computer, logging off.

She leans back against the small conference table and grins. Nedley’s out on Moose Lake with Rand and Styx for the night - Rand’s first overnight camping trip - but he’d like this, she thinks. He’d like the easy way Pine greets Diaz and pretends to be upset about Diaz not going out with them. He’d like the easy way Pine throws his arm around Kate’s shoulders and picks at her vest. He’d like the easy way they all tease each other as they pack up for shift change.

He’d like the camaraderie, the family they’ve created. 

“I’ll go,” she says.

Kate looks up. “What?”

Nicole nods, putting down the stack of forms in her hand. “I’m headed out anyway. Date night, tonight.”

“No way, Sheriff,” Kate says firmly. “It’s rookie duty.”

Nicole snorts. “For tonight, let me take it off your hands, okay? It’s a one-time only pass, though. So if you don’t take it, you can’t ever use it again.”

Kate is already peeling off her vest. “You’re sure?” she asks.

Nicole nods. “Yeah, yeah. Go out with the guys. Enjoy it. Just be ready to do all the Dray paperwork when you get in tomorrow.”

Kate grins. “You got it, Sheriff.”

Pine shakes his head, pulling on his coat. “You’re getting soft in your old age, Sheriff.”

“You’re older than I am,” Nicole points out. She turns into her office, getting her vest and her jacket off the coat hanger. She checks her desk one last time, making a note of what she’s laid out to do for tomorrow, and turns off the light, locking the door behind her.

“Last chance to take it back,” Kate offers.

“Last chance to get out of my face,” Nicole fires back. 

Kate grins. “Okay, okay.” She claps Pine on the shoulder and shoves him forward. “Let’s go, Piney. We can catch one of those pool tables if you can move your old man feet fast enough.”

Nicole shakes her head as they file out of the building. She pauses at the dispatch desk, waving goodnight to Lonnie.

“Heading out on a call, Sheriff?” Todd asks, settling in front of the switchboard.

Nicole brushes her fingers over the plaque with Linda’s name on it. “Yeah. I’ll radio in when I get there.”

“Got it.” He opens a three-ring binder and lays it down in front of him. “Do you mind if get some studying in?”

Nicole shrugs. “Just make sure you answer calls as soon as they come in.”

Todd nods quickly. “Of course, Sheriff. I always do.”

Nicole knows; it’s why she lets him keep studying each shift. “Ready to pass it this year?”

Todd sighs. “I could have passed it the first time, but tests have never been my thing. I’m more hands-on than this stupid pen and paper exam.” He closes the binder, showing her the front.  _ EMT National Training _ , it reads. “Cub gave me his copy to go over. His notes are better than mine.”

“You looking to ride on the rig with him?” Nicole asks.

Todd nods. “Eventually. They got a guy from Abee helping out on shifts so they can have two ambulances overlapping, but he needs someone else full-time.”

Nicole squeezes Todd’s shoulder. “You’d be the right guy for the job, but I’d hate to see you leave.”

Todd grins crookedly. “You’ve got Lonnie, Sheriff. He can train someone else for this job. And I’d still be around,” he promises.

Nicole sighs. “Well, if you need me to talk to the Fire Chief about you, just holler.”

Todd nods. “I appreciate it, Sheriff.” He leans back in his seat. “Give me a shout when you get to Mrs. Dray’s.”

Nicole unlocks her Bronco, sliding into the front seat and settling behind the wheel. She leans over, rifling through the glove box, grabbing the edge of the cassette tape she finds there. She puts in Def Leppard’s newest tape,  _ X _ . It’s not bad, she figures. She pats the dashboard of the Bronco, one she affectionately named Tank, and says her daily prayer.

“Please, God of Rock and Roll. Don’t let Tank shit the bed tonight. Let me get home safe and sound to Waverly, and let good music play while I drive.” She exhales softly. “Amen.”

The tape picks up just as “Everyday” fades out and “Long, Long Way To Go” comes on.

“ _ You held my hand, and then you slipped away. And I may never see your face again. So tell me how to fill the emptiness inside. Without love, what is life _ ?” Joe Elliott sings. 

Nicole backs out of the station parking lot easily, maneuvering around the haphazardly-parked cruisers. She makes a mental note to write up a memo tomorrow when she gets into the station: park in the lines or get your cruiser towed. Mo, at the scrapyard, owes her a favor. It helps that he loves pissing off his brother-in-law, Diaz. Nicole pauses at the side of the building, looking at the lit up windows and grinning widely.

She’s really done it. She’s really Sheriff of Purgatory. She’s really married to the girl she’s loved since she was seven. She’s really best friends with the same girl she’s been best friends with for years. 

Everything she’s ever wanted, it’s all right here in front of her.

And nearly everyone she wanted to share it with is right by her side. 

Except this damn raccoon.

When she pulls up in front of Mrs. Dray’s, she takes her time getting out of the truck. She calls Todd and reports her location, shushing him when he says, “Good luck” with a laugh. She gets her vest and tightens it around her chest, rapping her knuckles against the stomach cover. Halfway up the driveway, she pauses. There’s something rustling in the trash cans, the lid scraping against the ground. Nicole shakes her head.  _ Damn raccoon _ , she thinks. 

She changes direction, heading towards the front door. The porch creaks under her feet, but she shifts her weight and knocks on the front door softly.

Mrs. Dray pulls it open quickly. “Sheriff,” she says, surprised. “They said they were sending that rookie out here.”

“I volunteered to stop by,” Nicole says kindly. “I haven’t been able to stop by as often.”

“Being Sheriff seems to have gone to your head,” Mrs. Dray says, lifting her chin. “You used to stop by all the time. Now you’re behind that big desk, holding it up, I imagine. Just like Randy did.”

Nicole resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Of course, Mrs. Dray.”

“Just remember that  _ I _ remember when you were a rookie, young lady,” Mrs. Dray continues. She points a finger in Nicole’s direction. “Are you going to go take of that raccoon?”

“You know,” Nicole offers. “You could call Animal Control.”

“And have those York knuckleheads out here?” Mrs. Dray scoffs. “I don’t think so.”

“I know,” Nicole admits. “I just like to hear you call them knuckleheads.”

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Mrs Dray says sharply. “Now, go on and get that raccoon out of here, and then come inside for some tea. I need to know what Randy is getting up to these days, since he doesn’t answer my phone calls anymore.” She closes the door on Nicole, leaving her alone on the porch.

Nicole shakes her head slowly, laughing to herself as she goes back down the porch steps and across the front of the house. She rests a hand on her holster, finger on the button. She  _ hates _ raccoons.

“Nothing should have fingers like that,” she’d told Wynonna once. “I hate their hands.”

Wynonna had rolled her eyes, lifted baby’s Alice’s hand, and smacked Nicole in the nose with it. Alice giggled.

She rounds the side of the house, past the old empty carport Mrs. Dray put up years ago, and pauses just before the small back alley where Mrs. Dray keeps her trash cans. 

“You can do this,” she whispers to herself. She takes a deep breath and steps into the darkness. “Okay, you stupid fur hat,” she hisses. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

The trash can rattles and tips over. Nicole jumps back, growling when a banana peel slides across the top of her Oxfords. “Shit,” she murmurs. “I just shined these.” She looks up, raising her voice. “Okay, seriously. Get out of there before I turn you over to Animal Control. You won’t like what Pete and Kyle feed you.”

The standing trash can rattles and Nicole steps closer.

“I’m not kidding,” she says loudly. “It’s date night, and I’m not missing it because you decided to stop at the all-you-can-eat buffet.” She takes one final deep breath and steps forward, grabbing the edge of the bin and leaning over it.

A person stands up quickly, the trash can swaying before it hits the ground. Nicole staggers back, tripping over her feet. She can feel the fabric around the back pocket of her pants tear as she scrapes it on the concrete. The person rolls out of the trash can, kicking the plastic barrel away before rising to their feet. They loom over Nicole and she scrambles back along the ground, one hand trying to get the button on her holster undone.

The person steps closer, and Nicole can make out a gaunt jawline and hollow eyes. Their hair is long, greasy and hanging in their face. Something glints at their hip and Nicole inhales sharply as they lift a gun, aiming it at her.

“I already claimed this spot,” the person says.

_ A man _ , Nicole thinks.

The man steps closer and Nicole scrambles back, her palms burning as she digs them into the loose gravel under her. She pushes up, her arms burning with the strain, and gets to her feet, still moving backwards. Her eyes follow the end of the barrel as it swings towards her, the man lumbering forward. A Glock G29, if Nicole had to guess.  _ For mountain lions, _ Nedley had said when they first came out on the market.

“Woah,” she says slowly. “Listen, sir.”

“Sir,” the man spits. He steps forward, some of the light coming from the street catching his face. 

Nicole straightens up a little, eyes narrowed. “David?” she asks.

The man pauses. “What did you call me?”

Nicole swallows past the lump in her throat. “You’re David, right? Linda’s son?”

After Linda passed, Nicole spent a month going through her house, helping Cub pack up the things he wanted to keep. She’d gone through the living room, looking at picture after picture - most of them from the last few years. There was Cub’s graduation and his first day working at Shorty’s. There were even a few from Nicole’s 30th birthday, of Linda with Ms. Ruthie and Helen. In an old box in the attic, she’d found more pictures, older ones. There was Linda and her husband on their wedding day. There was Linda and her daughter. There were pictures of Bud teaching the kids how to skate. Nicole had thumbed through picture after picture, memorizing each and every single smile.

She looks at the man in front of he,r and she can see him: eleven years old on a pair of skates with Linda and Bud on each side of him; in his early 30s with Cub on his lap. She can see Bud in his eyes and Linda in his chin.

“David Doucette.”

The man frowns. “Do I know you?”

Nicole shakes her head. “No. No, I knew your mom. I… I worked with her, at the Sheriff’s Department.”

David holds his gun a little higher. “You’re a cop.” He squints at her, his eyes adjusting. She can see his hand tighten on the handle, his finger twitching. “Did she send you?”

Nicole feels something in her stomach twist. “N-no, David.” She slowly rests her hand back down on her holster, her movements measured and minute. “Did you just get back into town?”

David nods, his motion jerky and broken. “I, uh, I did a stint. In Edmonton. I…” He trails off, staring at her. “I know you.”

Nicole nods slowly. “We met a few years ago.”

“Haught,” he murmurs. “You picked Haught up one night, in Abee.”

Nicole nods again. “That’s my-”

“Did my mom send you?” David asks again. His arm wavers. 

Nicole watches the barrel drift in front of her. “No, David,” she says softly. “Linda, she-”

“Because that’s just like her, you know,” he continues over her. “She heard I got out and was coming back to town and she sent some dumb Roller after me.” He waves his arms around, the barrel pointing at the house before it’s aimed in her direction again. 

“David,” Nicole tries again. She pops the button on the holster, her chest loosening a little as she feels the cool metal of her gun against her fingertips. “Maybe we can put that down? Go and talk?”

David shakes his head, his hair everywhere. “No. I’m not going. I don’t want to talk to her, okay? I  _ know _ I messed up. I  _ know _ I let that boy down. But if she understood, what it was like after I got hurt. If she  _ bothered _ to try and understand-”

“I understand,” Nicole says gently. “I do. You remember my brother, right? Haught. Nathan Haught.”

“Yeah,” David admits.

“I get it,” Nicole continues. “And if you just put that down, we can forget this ever happened, okay?”

“Like my mom forgot?” David asks, his voice hard again. “She forgot that I even existed after that  _ stupid _ Sheriff caught me outside of Athabasca?” He steps forward, the G29 slipping a little. “He called her, you know? Called Sheriff Nedley and put her on the line. Told her I got busted with intent to sell. And she told him she didn’t have a son.”

Nicole wishes she hadn’t been right about that, all those years ago. She’d told Nedley after her wedding, about her suspicion that she’d been following up on for a few years. She knew David was mixed up in the Highway 63 trade; she’d read a report issued by the CPIC that listed him as a person of interest. She started digging in, tracing dealers and users until she found someone in Anzac who gave a description of David. They reported he was working for one of the main suppliers, using the homeless camps along 63 to ferry product from Edmonton to Fort McMurray and all of the outlying hamlets. 

She’d gone to Nedley with all of her information, meticulously labeled and organized, and presented it to him nervously. He’d taken all of her work and told her he would look it over and get back to her. But then Alice had been born, and Nicole had shoved the thought into the back of her mind. Nicole was sure even Nedley had forgotten about it.

“David,” Nicole tries again. “Let’s just-”

“I just got out. Four years, they gave me.” He shakes his head. “You wait until I see her again. I’m gonna-”

“ _ David _ ,” Nicole says. “Linda isn’t here, okay?”

David pauses. “Where is she?  _ Vacationing?  _ While I rotted in prison?”

Nicole takes a deep breath. “She died, David.”

He blinks at her. “Wh-what?”

“She passed,” Nicole repeats. “Three years ago last week.”

David shakes his head. “You’re lying.” 

Nicole holds one hand up, the other getting a tighter grip on the handle of her service weapon. She tries to lift it up, but the button strap has fallen back down and her hand catches. She grits her teeth, looking up and plastering on something closer to a smile. “David, let’s just go sit down, and I can tell you about it, okay?”

“You’re lying,” he repeats.

“I’m not,” she promises. “Please. Just sit down and we can-”

“Take it back,” he demands. He jabs his arm forward. “Take it back.”

“I want to,” she tells him. “I wish I could.”

“She’s not,” he says, shaking his head.

“David, I’m so sorry. I am. Your mom-”

A car backfires and Nicole jumps, her hand coming off her holster.

“David,” she starts, taking a step forward. She hisses sharply. Something in her shoulder burns. She tries to roll it back , and she gasps, the sudden pain dropping her to one knee. “Wh-what is…” She trails off, a hand at her shoulder. Her fingers come back covered in blood, and Nicole’s eyes widen as a flood of pain rushes through her body. 

David steps forward, his arm jerking as he fires again. 

This time, something catches her in the leg. Heat rages through her, settling in her knee uncomfortably. She loses her traction on the ground, falling backwards. Her shoulder pulses red-hot and her leg flares. She can feel something wet and sticky seeping into the waistband of her underwear and through the white undershirt she’s wearing. 

_ Not a car _ , she thinks.  _ A bullet. Two bullets _ .

She opens her mouth to speak, but a shadow looms over her and the words catch at the back of her throat.

“Take it  _ back _ ,” David growls, standing over her. His hand is shaking, his G29 wavering. 

Nicole blinks, and feels bile rising in her throat. “David,” she tries.

“Shut up,” he hisses. “Just  _ shut up _ .” He steadies the gun with the palm of his other hand, his eyes cold. 

“Wave-”

Another shot rings out and Nicole squeezes her eyes tightly. David makes a strangled noise, stumbling back. His gun falls from his hand, bouncing hard against the concrete and skidding away. Nicole stretches her neck back, her vision swimming. She can make out Mrs. Dray, that ancient Winchester 9422 in her hands.

“I called the station,” Mrs. Dray shouts.

David groans and staggers forward.

Nicole hears the click of Mrs. Dray cocking her Winchester. “Don’t you move a muscle, boy. Or I’ll put another hole in your brain to match the one you put there yourself.” She moves closer, until Nicole can feel her body heat.

“You hold on, Sheriff. Someone’s coming. Todd called Cub, too. They’re on their way.”

There’s the sound of gravel rumbling across the ground, and Mrs. Dray swears under her breath. “Son of a bitch.” Mrs. Dray rests the Winchester on the ground next to Nicole, her fingers curling into Nicole’s collar. “He got away, Sheriff.”

“Wave-” Nicole tries again.

“No, no,” Mrs. Dray says. “No, don’t speak. Someone is on their way.”

“Dav-” She coughs loudly, her whole body pulsing. Everything feels cold, too cold. Absently, she thinks about her pants, about whether or not the bullet tore through the crease she just ironed in them this morning. “

“ _ Then every time I turn around and you're nowhere to be found _ ,” she hears Joe Elliott singing.

“Do you hear that?”

Mrs. Dray looks down at her, frowning. “Hear what, girl?”

“Music,” Nicole manages, her throat closing. “I… hear music.”

“You turn that off right now, Nicole Haught,” Mrs. Dray hisses. “You focus on me, you hear?”

“Waves,” Nicole breathes, the edges of her vision going black. “I… Waverly."

“Hold on, Sheriff.” Mrs. Dray repeats. “Just hold on.”

She can still hear the music, fading in and out like she’s in the middle of a wind tunnel. Somewhere in the distance, over the wailing guitar, she can hear sirens and Waverly’s laugh.

“Waves,” she breathes out.

The blackness rushes up on her, swallowing her whole as Joe Elliott keeps singing in her ear.

_ “I got a long, long way to go before I can say goodbye to you…” _


	2. all the best that life can bring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole frowns. “I don’t… Am I dead?”
> 
> Curtis laughs, a full and deep sound that Nicole hasn’t heard in years. “Why would you think that?”
> 
> “Because you’re not,” Nicole breathes. “You’re not… alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a hot day in the beginning of August 2017, I was listening to the radio when “Caught Up In You” by 38 Special came on. I was neck-deep in another story and my brain was rapidly firing on all WayHaught cylinders, all the time. I remember hearing the lines “so caught up in you, little girl, and I never did suspect a thing. So caught up in you, little girl, that I never want to get myself free” and thinking to myself: This would be such a killer song for WayHaught. 
> 
> Yes, in the year 2017, I was still convincing myself to not write songfics. So, then, I ignored that voice in the back of my head, listened to Smurf, and wrote a giant songfic. 
> 
> I’ve said it a hundred and one times - and I’ll say it a thousand more - but I couldn’t have gotten through this without Smurf at my side. She is the bouncy house to my ideas, the comma to my run-on sentences, the yellow to my orange, my best goddamn friend. Working on this project with her complete support behind me, brainstorming with me, and encouraging me to just keep writing when I felt like I couldn’t is the entire reason it exists. So, do me a solid, and tip your beer mug to Smurf; she deserves it.
> 
> I’ve thought long and hard about how to craft a final author’s note for this fic, but all the flowery and fancy prose escapes me as I sit down now and try to come up with something. It wouldn’t matter; it would all come down to two simple words: Thank you.
> 
> Thank you for giving this crazy idea a chance.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with it during its lows and its high. 
> 
> Thank you for your fanart. Thank you for your headcanons. Thank you for buying t-shirts and using ‘clutch’ like it’s 1989. Thank you for sending me your asks and your tweets - your words have meant and will continue to mean more to me than you will ever know.
> 
> Thank you for loving to read this story as much as I loved writing it.
> 
> (God, I’m _a lot_ more emotional about this than I thought I would be.)
> 
> Thank you: for tuning in for the last 46 weeks; for reading over 600k; for crying over Curtis and the song "Faithfully"; for seeing a German Shepard and thinking of Styx; for hearing _Hysteria_ and going hysterical; for telling me your mixtape stories; for showing me your boots and your rolled cuffs; for giving the music a try.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> _Thank you._
> 
> So do me a favor. Roll up your flannels, cuff your jeans, tighten your boot laces, and turn on some music. Stay clutch, keep on the right track, and don’t _ever_ stop rocking.

_ “You’re not supposed to leave without me!” Nicole yells. _

_ Nathan pedals faster, looking back at her over his shoulder with a wide smile on his face. “Find your own friends!” he shouts. The front wheel of his bike swerves, and he laughs as she nearly crashes into Perry Crofte. The two boys pedal harder, stretching the distance between them and Nicole, desperately trying to catch up _ .

_ “I don’t have any,” Nicole sighs, coming to a stop.  _

_ She kicks at the pavement, nearly scuffing the top of her Adidas Top Ten Rick Barry hightops, the ones her dad bought Nathan. They didn’t fit him, but they fit Nicole, perfectly and she’d taken them without a second thought. She cleans them every night and wears them to bed, just in case Nathan decides he wants them back. He’s a poser like that. _

Don’t go anywhere without your sister _ , her mom had told Nathan this morning.  _ Your father is on a business trip, and I’m going to work an extra shift so that Carla Woodall can go see her niece in Edmonton. 

_ Nathan had promised, up and down and sideways, that Nicole could tag along.  _ We’ll go to Shorty’s _ , he’d told her mom, grinning when she gave him a few extra bills, for her. _

_ But Nathan hadn’t kept his promise. He’d taken the extra money and shoved it into his pocket and called Perry, telling him to meet at their normal spot. Nicole had tried to keep up with them, but her legs weren’t as long as theirs, and she was still kind of slow on her bike; still figuring out how to make the pedals turn quickly. _

_ Nathan and Perry had left her in the dust, and they took her Shorty’s money with them. _

_ Nicole sighs and hangs over the front of her handlebars, her chin resting on the cold metal.  _ I can catch them at Shorty’s _ , she thinks, pushing off again. She cuts down Homestead, taking her time as she pedals. It’s the long way, but it’s nice out today, and she’s in her brand new fake leather vest she got at the Sears in the city. _

_ Nathan told her it was stupid, but Chrissy Nedley saw it at school the other day and told her she looked totally  _ hit.

_ Nicole wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded good. _

_ She slows down as she passes a bright red truck idling in a driveway. The radio is on, loud, and the song sounds familiar, like something her dad might listen to. _

_ “Lonely sailors pass the time away, and talk about their homes,” someone sings along. _

_ Nicole jumps when the screen door bangs open, hitting the side of the house. A girl stomps across the threshold and down the porch steps, her hands clenched into fists and her hair in her face. _

_ “Wynonna, you get back here!” someone else yells. A woman with short hair follows her, eyes narrowed like Nicole’s dad’s get when she touches one of his tapes. _

_ Her eyes widen as they go around the side of the house, shouting at each other. The door opens again and someone else slips out onto the porch.  _

Another girl _ , Nicole thinks. She’s smaller, her hair in a high ponytail. Nicole watches her sit down on the top step, her chin in her hands. The girl - Wynonna - and the lady are still shouting, and the noise hurts Nicole’s ears. She rests her feet on the pedals of her bike and starts to push off. _

_ “The sailors say: ‘Brandy, you're a fine girl’ (you're a fine girl). What a good wife you would be’ (such a fine girl).” _

_ Nicole pauses. She  _ does _ know this song. “Yeah, your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea,” she sings along under her breath. She waits, wanting to hear the rest of the song, but the girl on the porch looks up, and their eyes meet. _

_ Nicole jumps and her feet slide off the pedals, hitting the pavement with a  _ thud _. Her ankles ache now, but she leans over her handlebars and starts to push off. She gets a few feet before she looks back over her shoulder, but the girl on the steps is still staring at her, watching her ride away.  _

_ “Waverly!” the other girl,  _ Wynonna _ , calls. _

_ The girl -  _ Waverly -  _ turns. _

_ “Waverly,” Nicole repeats as she pedals hard down the street. “Waverly.” _

“Waverly,” Nicole groans.

“Hush now,” Mrs. Dray instructs. “Don’t move, girl.” She swears under her breath. “Dammit, I can’t see where it hit you.”

Nicole tries to lift her arm, to point to the place on her leg that feels the heaviest, but her body won’t move. She tries to stretch her neck to one side, to see if something is holding her down, but there’s a weight on her chest that stops her and steals the air from her lungs.

“Waverly,” she chokes.

Mrs. Dray hovers over her. “No, no. Don’t speak. Save your strength. That Doucette boy is on his way, you hear me?”

“Douc-” Nicole tries, her throat closing around the words.

“That’s right,” Mrs. Dray says. “Cub Doucette. He’s on his way. He’s got that whole ambulance lit up for you. I can hear it coming.”

Nicole can’t hear the sirens, but she can hear Joe Elliott, still singing to her.

“ _ In every crowd, there's always someone with your face. Everywhere, trying not to care. _ ”

Something snaps to the side of them, and Mrs. Dray stands up quickly, her Winchester aimed towards the darkness. A raccoon wanders out from the shadowy tree belt. Nicole can hear Mrs. Dray pull back the hammer on her 9422.

“Mrs. Dray?”

“Back here!” Mrs. Dray yells, kneeling down at Nicole’s side again. “Hear that? Cub’s here, Sheriff. He’s here.”

Nicole groans, willing her body to roll to the side. Her stomach tightens, and she thinks she might be sick. Her head is woozy, but she pushes through it, trying to think about good things until her stomach settles: a blank cassette, fresh out of the plastic wrapping; listening to a song for the first time; kissing Waverly good morning; kissing Waverly goodnight; drives to Moose Lake with Styx.

She screams as a hand slides over her shoulder.

“Okay, Sheriff,” Cub says sharply. “I need you to listen to me, and listen to me good. You are  _ not _ dying tonight.”

_ “I’m gonna die,” Waverly groans. _

_ “ _ I’m _ gonna die,” Wynonna mutters. “Of  _ boredom _.” She throws her hands up in the air. “Do we  _ have _ to be doing this?” _

_ Nicole stands tall, her hands on her hips. “Do  _ you _ want to teach her how to ride a bike?” _

_ Wynonna rolls her eyes, leaning back on her elbows. She’s stretched out on the grass, pulling up tufts of it and spreading it across the front of her jeans. “No,” she finally says. _

_ “Then can it,” Nicole says. She looks at Waverly, her eyes softening. “You’re not going to die. Scout’s honor.” _

_ “You weren’t a Scout,” Waverly points out. “Nathan is.” _

_ “Was,” Nicole corrects. “He quit last week. Something about not wanting to wear a grody ascot.” _

_ Waverly nods towards a house on the left. “Jeremy, he lives there. He can’t wait to be a Scout. He likes the ascots best.” _

_ “Jeremy’s a baby,” Wynonna says. _

_ “He’s only two years younger than me,” Waverly says. _

_ Wynonna purses her lips. “Then he’s a super baby. And you’re a regular baby.” _

_ “Am not,” Waverly says. _

_ “Are, too.” _

_ “Am  _ not _.” _

_ “Are-” _

_ “Okay,” Nicole says sharply. “Can we have one day where you two quit arguing?” She kicks at the grass pile Wynonna is building on her knee. “You guys sound like my parents.” _

_ Wynonna sits up a little more, catching Nicole’s ankle. “Did he call?” she asks quietly. _

_ Nicole shakes her head. “My mom said not to get my hopes up. He’s probably busy with  _ Susan _.” _

_ “ _ Susan _ ,” Wynonna says. She spits on the ground. “That’s how I feel about her.” _

_ Nicole frowns. “You don’t even know her.” _

_ Wynonna shrugs. “I know she’s a bit-” _

_ “Language!” Waverly shouts. _

_ Wynonna turns to scowl at Waverly, her mouth opening wide - to say something mean, Nicole is sure - but Nicole beats her to it, clapping her hands together loudly. “Don’t you want to learn to ride?” _

_ Waverly sighs. “Curtis’ll kill me if I crash into his truck again.” _

_ “Again? Nicole asks. She puffs her chest out. “I stopped you the first time, didn’t?” _

_ She  _ had _ to stop Waverly; Curtis would kill them if she crashed Nicole’s bike into his truck. But she promised Waverly she wouldn’t let her get hurt, and so that’s what she would do. Even if it meant running alongside Waverly as she tried to ride, getting her toes run over when the front wheel wobbled. _

_ “I don’t want to die,” Waverly says firmly. _

_ “You’re not going to die,” Nicole says. “I promise.” _

“You’re not going to die, Sheriff,” Cub repeats. He grips the velcro straps of her vest, pulling them tighter. “We need to keep pressure on these until we can get her to the hospital.” He looks up at Mrs. Dray. “Do you have any towels we can-”

“I’ll go get ‘em,” Mrs. Dray says quickly, pushing up onto her feet.

Nicole reaches up with one hand, gripping the collar of Cub’s shirt. Her eyes clear, and for a moment, Cub looks just like his father. She can feel something tighten in her chest, a panic rising in her throat, and she pushes at him weakly, trying to get him away.

She doesn’t want to be hurt anymore.

“Sheriff,” Cub shouts over her. “Sheriff, calm down.”

Nicole keeps trying to push, seeing David in the ridge of his brow and the set of his mouth. Something hard presses into her side, and she tries to kick back, but her legs don’t move.

“ _ Nicole _ ,” Cub says, gripping the sides of her face between his hands. 

Nicole feels her hand sliding off Cub’s collar. It takes too much effort to blink, but she does it, her vision swimming. David fades, and she’s left looking into Linda’s eyes.

Cub leans closer, peeling back one of her eyelids. “Nicole, if you can hear me, you need to let go of me. Justin, he’s bringing the ambulance closer, but you  _ have _ to let go of me,” he says.

She can feel the pavement thrumming underneath her head, almost pulsing with life. Something warm and wet is sticking to her chin, her hair twisted flush against her cheek.  _ Put it back _ , she wants to scream.  _ Put the blood back _ . But when she works to open her mouth, nothing comes out. 

“Here, son,” Mrs. Dray says, her breath coming in shorts spurts. She thrusts a towel at Cub, and he takes it, rolling it up into a ball.

_ Mrs. Dray shouldn’t be running _ , Nicole thinks.  _ Don’t let her run. Don’t _ -

Something burns when Cub presses the balled-up towel to her leg. She kicks, her leg spasming, and Cub makes a face at her, looking up at Mrs. Dray as she kneels down next to Nicole. There’s hands at her head, Mrs. Dray leaning down over her as she keeps her neck still. 

“Careful, Sheriff,” Mrs. Dray says softly. “I know it hurts. Just let the boy do his job, you hear me?”

There’s lights above her now, red and white and flashing through the darkness. Nicole can barely make them out past the shadow of Mrs. Dray’s face, but she can hear the sound that goes with them, a high-pitched  _ wee-ooo, wee-ooo _ that makes her head pulse. 

She slowly loosens her grip on Cub’s collar and he sits back a little. His knee slides in something wet and he curses under his breath. “I just ironed these,” he mutters. He gives her something like a smile. “The store only had the flat front, so I had to improvise,” he says. 

“Che-” she tries. She sticks her tongue out, thinking that if she can just wet her lips, she can get the whole word out in one piece. But her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth and it feels like its swelling, choking her.

Cub’s fingers press hard into the base of her skull and he pushes her head back, her chin lifting into the air.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Mrs. Dray asks.

“She’s panicking, and she needs air to her lungs,” Cub says quickly. “I’m opening her airway.” He looms over her again. “Okay, Sheriff? Just, take it easy. Think about something good. Think about something happy.”

_ “Think about something that makes you smile _ , _ ” Curtis suggests. “It might help you get over the nerves.” _

_ Nicole scowls. “I’m not a little kid anymore.” _

_ Curtis nods slowly. “Right, right.” He pushes his hands into his front pockets, his shoulders up by his ears. “My mistake. I forgot that you’re…” _

_ “Thirteen,” Nicole says sharply. _

_ “Thirteen,” Curtis repeats. “And at thirteen, you’re not a little kid anymore.” _

_ “That’s right.” Nicole puffs her chest out. “And I don’t give a sh-” She stops, eyeing Curtis warily. “I don’t give a shit.” _

_ Curtis whistles low, shaking his head. “Well, you must be all grown up. Only grown-ups use that kind of language.” _

_ “Nathan uses it,’ Nicole grumbles. “He says it all the time.” _

_ Curtis frees a hand from his pocket and runs it through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Nicole thinks he needs a haircut, but he said he was going for a Steely Dan look. Nicole thinks Steely Dan looks like a hoser, but Curtis likes them anyway. _

Everyone has something bad about them _ , Nicole thinks. _

_ “Listen,” Curtis starts. He blows out, his hot breath making a cloudy ring in the cool air. “We don’t  _ have _ to skate. We can just go inside and tell Wynonna and Waverly that the ice is melting.” _

_ Nicole looks at the solid ice rink on the front lawn. “It’s -11 out here. They’re going to know it’s not melting.” _

_ Curtis shrugs. “I thought you didn’t give a shit?” _

_ Nicole narrows her eyes, waiting for the trap. She sings a whole chorus of “Tainted Love” - Waverly’s had it on repeat, making her ears bleed - before she remembers that it’s  _ Curtis, _ and he doesn’t set traps for her to walk into. _

_ “I don’t,” she grumbles. “But they’ll know,” she rushes on. “And they’ll know you’re being nice about it, and I’m just chickening out.  _ Again _.” _

_ Curtis sighs and sits down on the bottom step of the porch stairs. His knees nearly hit his ears, and he leans back, his elbows digging into the stair behind him. “You know, admitting you can’t do something doesn’t mean you’re a chicken.” _

_ Nicole sits down next to him, stretching her legs out. She’s wearing Nathan’s old hockey skates, and they weigh too much - her ankles strain as they dip to the side. “My dad says it does.” _

_ “Your dad-” Curtis starts sharply. He stops himself, taking a deep breath. “Well,  _ I’ve _ always thought it meant you were being a bigger man. Woman,” he adds, glancing at her. “Stepping back and admitting there’s something you can’t do? Something you’re afraid of? That takes guts.” _

_ Nicole frowns. “It does?” _

_ Curtis nods. “Oh, definitely.” He elbows her. “And if you can’t ice skate - if you don’t  _ want _ to ice skate? Well, that’ll take a lot of courage.” _

_ “I thought courage was doing hero stuff,” Nicole says slowly. _

_ Curtis looks at her and grins. “There’s all different kinds of heroes, Nicole Haught. The question is, which kind of hero do  _ you _ want to be?” _

“What the hell kind of hero were you trying to be?” Cub hisses. 

_ The Curtis kind _ , Nicole thinks.

There’s footsteps coming towards her, raining down like thunder, and then something skids by her head, kicking up gravel and dust.

“Goddammit, Justin,” Cub spits. He gestures for something Nicole can’t see, and then there’s blinding white gauze at her shoulder, turning bright red as her blood oxidizes. 

She remembers reading about it once, waiting in Jeremy’s living room the summer Dolls fought in the Purgatory Country Club Boxing Tournament. She had flipped through one of the magazines on the coffee table while Jeremy rooted around upstairs for the perfect ascot to go with his ‘watching Dolls beat the crap out of a practice dummy’ shirt. Something about hemoglobin and ironing and rust, if she remembers correctly.

She probably doesn’t, though.

“Talk to me,” Justin asks, opening a bag. He shoves more gauze towards Cub, and then snaps on a pair of gloves.

“Dav-” Nicole tries. The words get stuck again, and her mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton. Another set of hands rest on her face, turning her head to the side gently. Something dribbles out of her mouth, sliding down her cheek, but she barely feels it when it hits her neck.

“Not you,” Justin says quietly. He smiles quickly and turns away, looking up at Cub.

“Two entry wounds. One in the shoulder, just below the front of the scapula. I’m not sure if it hit the bone or not.”

Justin waves him off. “They’ll know at the hospital. Second shot?”

Cub lifts his hands from where he’s squatting down by her leg. “It didn’t hit the femoral artery. I think it’s lodged in the femur, though. Just above the knee.”

Justin leans back a little, looking her up and down. “We need to pack these and get her in the ambulance, kid.”

Nicole tries to shake her head.  _ No _ , she wants to scream.  _ No, go after him _ . 

Something in Justin’s eyes changes as he looks down at her, catching the letting on her vest. “She’s a cop?”

“She’s the goddamn Sheriff,” Cub says.

Justin nods sharply. “Then we better get a move on. You ready, kid?”

_ Nicole climbs into Wynonna’s bed, pushing the covers to the floor. “Are you ready to come downstairs?” she asks quietly. _

_ Wynonna stares up at the ceiling, not blinking. Nicole had stood in the doorway for nearly three Queen songs before Wynonna even noticed she was there. “No,” she says. _

_ Nicole isn’t surprised.  _ ‘No’ _ is the only word Wynonna has said the last few days. _

Are you hungry? Are you tired? Do you want something to drink? Do you miss him?

_ No, no, no,  _ no,  _ Wynonna had said. _

_ Nicole lays back against the pillow Waverly is using. She blows hard, Wynonna’s hair drifting out of the way. “Doc came by,” she offers. _

_ “Doc can get bent,” Wynonna says flatly. _

_ Nicole snorts softly. “He’s gonna be bent out of shape if you don’t call him back soon. So is Gus, the way the phone is ringing off the hook.” _

_ “I didn’t ask him to call.” _

_ Nicole shrugs. “He misses you.” _

I miss you _ , Nicole thinks.  _

_ Wynonna doesn’t say anything, blinking slowly.  _

_ “Mercedes came by, too.” _

_ Wynonna turns her head slowly, frowning. “Why?” _

_ Nicole frowns back at her. “Why not?” _

_ “They didn’t know him,” Wynonna says, her voice hard. She turns, looking back at the ceiling. “No one knew him.” _

“I _ knew him,” Nicole says firmly. “He was my-” Something cracks in her throat. “I knew him.” _

_ There’s a look in Wynonna’s eyes that’s softer when she turns and stares back at Nicole. “I know,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I know you knew him. I’m sorry. I’m so-” _

_ Nicole sighs, wrapping an arm across Wynonna’s chest, her fingers curling around Wynonna’s shoulder. She pulls hard, letting Wynonna crash into her side. Wynonna’s body gives, sinking into Nicole’s hold. She wiggles an arm under Wynonna’s neck, inhaling deeply. Her nose is pressed into Wynonna’s hair and her hips are digging into Wynonna’s ribs.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” Wynonna sobs into Nicole’s white shirt. She grips the back of it tightly, twisting it into creases Nicole knows will take forever to iron out. She doesn’t care, though. Not now. Not when Wynonna is  _ finally _ letting it all go. _

_ She’d let Wynonna soak through all her shirts, if it meant she would just say something -  _ anything _.  _

_ Nicole shushes her softly, rocking her body back and forth as much as she can. “He’s not mad,” she promises Wynonna. She can’t be sure, but she  _ knew _ Curtis, and she knows he wouldn’t be mad. Not at Wynonna.  _

_ Not  _ now _. _

_ “I just-” Wynonna wavers, her eyes wet and red in the corners. Her hands flatten against Nicole’s back and she coughs into Nicole’s neck. “He loved-” _

_ “I know,” Nicole says when Wynonna stops. “He did.” _

_ “And I didn’t go.” Wynonna’s fingernails are sharp through the thin fabric of her shirt, but Nicole doesn’t feel it sting yet. “He would have wanted me to go.” Something tightens in Wynonna’s shoulders, and Nicole squeezes them until the tension fades. “He would have wanted me to go,” Wynonna repeats. _

_ “He would have wanted  _ you _ to want to go,” Nicole whispers into Wynonna’s ear. “If you don’t want to play the piano anymore, that’s okay. Curtis would have understood.” She thinks about quitting the drums and how Curtis told her it was okay; how he made her feel like she didn’t  _ fail _ , but he still let her bow off the stage when she wanted to. “He would have definitely played every song on the jukebox with a heavy piano in it, but he would have understood.” _

_ Wynonna hiccups. “He’s a son of a bitch,” she murmurs. _

_ Nicole snorts softly. “Waverly is going to make you put a quarter in the jar.” _

_ Wynonna pulls back a little, looking up at Nicole. “She’s not going to know.” _

_ “Wanna bet?” Nicole asks. “Bet you a Journey tape that she’s lying outside the door right now.” _

_ Wynonna narrows her eyes, her nose red and wet.  _ “Frontiers?”

_ Nicole nods.  _ “Frontiers.”

_ Wynonna stares at her for another moment before she nods slowly. “Fine.” _

_ Nicole grins and rolls to the edge of the bed, pausing for a moment. Wynonna wipes at her face, scrubbing her hand over her chin and then down the front of her shirt. She nods, sniffing, and Nicole stands up, grabbing the doorknob and pulling it open in the same motion. _

_ Waverly looks up from the floor, eyes wide. She blinks at Nicole before looking past her, to Wynonna. “You owe the jar a quarter.” _

_ Nicole grins triumphantly. _

_ Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Double or nothing that Gus is standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for us to come down.” _

_ Nicole holds out her hand, her arm wavering slightly. “You’re on.” _

“You’re on the left,” Justin directs.

Cub nods, kneeling down on Nicole’s side. He reaches across her chest, gripping the sleeve of her jacket. His hand slides off, is glove coming back red. He growls softly and reaches again, tightening his grip. Something in Nicole’s shoulder pinches but the pinch fades quickly, a sharp, shooting pain replacing it as Cub pulls, lifting her body off the ground.

“Hold her steady, steady,” Justin calls. He probes under her shoulder, his fingers like knives through her jacket. “No exit wound,” he declares.

Cub sets her back down, his eyes heavy with an apology he doesn’t say out loud.

“Mrs…”

“Dray.”

Justin nods. “Mrs. Dray, will you bring that stretcher over here? We need to get her on it and get her to the hospital.”

Mrs. Dray disappears from Nicole’s view, and she feels something tighten in her stomach. She doesn’t know Justin. He’s from Abee, picking up extra shifts until Todd passes his exam and can ride along in the second Purgatory ambulance with Cub. But Drew and Scoot are the daytime emergency medical technicians, and Nicole usually deals with them. Cub’s face is too far away, too hazy in her blurred vision, but Justin swims clear and close, and it makes Nicole panic.

She doesn’t know this face; she can’t read his eyes or the truth in the turn of his lips. She doesn’t know if he likes cassettes or compact discs or if he irons his pants or shines his shoes. She wants to ask; if he’s a compact disc man, she’s not sure if she can trust him.

“Hang on, Sheriff,” Justin assures her. “We’ve got the stretcher coming, and then we’re going right to the hospital.” He looks up, speaking towards her feet. “She got a next of kin?”

“Her wife,” Cub says quickly. “Oh,  _ god.  _ Her wife. We have to call Waverly. If we don’t call, and she-”

“We need to get her to the hospital,” Justin says sharply. “The rest can wait.”

Cub shakes his head. “You haven’t met her wife,” he mumbles.

“Wave,” Nicole mangages.

“I’ll call her,” Mrs. Dray promises. “I’ll call her for you.”

“On my go,” Justin says over Mrs. Dray.

Nicole can feel hands gripping her clothes, pulling a hot burn across her body. She wants to scream. She wants to cry. She wants to beat them off of her and stand up and go home to her wife and her dog and call her best friend and sing Alice her favorite song - the one she used to have to sing over the phone when Alice was colicky and wouldn’t sleep. 

She sings it to herself instead.

“ _ She's got a smile that it seems to me reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky _ .”

“Three,” Justin calls.

_ “Now and then when I see her face, she takes me away to that special place. And if I'd stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry.” _

“Two.”

“ _ Oh, oh, oh, sweet child o' mine. Oh, oh- _ ”

“One,” he shouts.

They lift her up and onto the stretcher, and the ache in her leg, the burn in her shoulder, turns into a fireball of agony that makes her chest tighten and her stomach turn and her eyes well. She can feel them rolling into the back of her head, and all she can see is red and white lights, blinking on and off. 

_ Waverly moves across the lawn, blue and pink lights blinking on and off. She jumps, twisting midair, and comes back down on the balls of her feet gracefully, laughing. Water from the sprinkler Doc hooked up glitters in the afternoon sun, and Nicole is sure she’s not breathing. _

_ “Put your tongue back in your mouth,” Chrissy mutters. _

_ Nicole sits up quickly, her jaw closing so fast that her teeth clack together. “Can it.” _

“You _ can it,” Chrissy fires back. “You look like you’re about to drown in a puddle of your own drool.” She gestures at Nicole’s face. “It’s, like, all over.” _

_ She wipes self-consciously at her chin, scowling when her hand comes back dry. “Is not.” _

_ Chrissy grins. “It will be if you keep staring at her.” _

_ “I’m not-” Nicole stops when Chrissy looks at her, daring her to finish her sentence. Instead, Nicole drops her head, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I can’t help it.” _

_ Chrissy sighs and threads her arm through Nicole’s, curling her fingers around Nicole’s bare knee. Nicole looks down, eyes wide as she stares at the tan skin against her pale knee. “You’re still into her, huh?” _

_ Nicole feels her cheeks burn. “Yeah,” she mumbles. _

_ Chrissy gives another sigh, heavier this time, and leans into Nicole’s knee. Waverly looks back at the porch, frowning when she spots them, but Rosita grabs her around the waist, lifting her into the air. _

_ “I think Champ wants to ask her out again,” Chrissy murmurs softly. “I heard him talking about it.” _

_ Nicole shrugs a shoulder, trying to pretend like Champ’s name doesn’t slice through her stomach like food poisoning. “He’s always talking about it.” _

_ Chrissy nods. “One of these days, she’ll tell him no.” _

_ “I’m not holding my breath,” Nicole mutters. _

_ Chrissy looks up at her. “Yes, you are.” _

_ Nicole glares down, swaying hard to one side and knocking Chrissy off-balance. Her hand slides over Nicole’s thigh just as Waverly looks over at them again. She’s meters away, watching them through a shower of water, but Nicole swears her eyes follow the slip of Chrissy’s fingers and catch the blush on the tops of Nicole’s cheeks. _

_ “You’re a senior this year, you know.” _

_ Nicole rolls her eyes. “I remember, thanks.” _

_ “Isn’t senior year about doing what you want?” Chrissy wiggles her eyebrows. “You know, being brave.” _

_ “Brave can mean a lot of different things,” Nicole says absently, remembering sitting on the steps with Curtis nearly five years ago _ .

_ “And brave is sitting around watching her get back together with that space suck?” _

_ Nicole snorts. “Brave is keeping all of my body parts in tact. Because if Wynonna ever found out-  _ No _. If  _ Waverly _ ever found out-” _

_ “She’d jump on that?” Chrissy supplies. _

_ Nicole feels her face burn. “No, she wouldn’t.” She frowns. “And why do you care so much, anyway?” _

_ Chrissy opens her mouth, but Nicole doesn’t hear her answer. Waverly laughs, the noise sharp and bright over the sounds of Purgatory; of cars motoring up and down the street and a lawnmower running a few houses down; of the soft bell noises drifting from the open doors of Shorty’s on Main Street; of the radio playing the summer’s best hits - “Roll With It” and “The Flame” and “Pour Some Sugar On Me” - back to back. A car drives by, Bumblebear’s 1971 black Oldsmobile Cutlass, and it catches the colors in Waverly’s bathing suit, magnifying them. _

_ She looks like fireworks, like neon lights dancing across Purgatory in the middle of the night - when the lights are burning pure, for once. Nicole had driven her Pontiac down Main Street the first night she got it, way past curfew and not a care in the world. She’d stopped outside of Shorty’s, letting the neon dance through her windshield and across her dashboard, trapping it in her hands just to let it go again. _

_ Waverly looks like those same lights, moving along the lawn with the black Cutlass behind her, lit up like a billboard Nicole never wants to tear down. She glimmers and sparkles and shimmers, and Nicole can’t see anything else but her; can’t hear anything else but “Love Walks In” playing somewhere in the distance. _

Joe Elliott picks up again as Justin slams the back doors of the ambulance shut.

_ “Then every time I turn around, and you're nowhere to be found. _ ”

She knows Cub is speaking to her, hooking up lines and poking her in the arm with something sharp - if she could feel it. She knows they’re driving, hitting every pothole on the way.

_ Mayor Hamilton should fix those _ , she thinks for a fleeting moment before the idea is swallowed up again.

She knows the sirens are running and the lights are flashing and she knows she’s stained these pants beyond what Ruth at Soaps and Suds can do with her dry cleaning machine. She knows Cub is talking her through what he’s doing, what they’ll do at the hospital. She knows someone should think about revoking Justin’s license if this is how he drives with a patient in the back.

She just can’t focus on it, not when Joe Elliott is singing loudly in her ear and she sees Waverly behind her eyelids every time she blinks. 

“ _ I got a long, long way to go… _ ”

She tries to remember what she read in that article, about blood. Words come and go too quickly for her to get her head around, but she knows that her blood pressure is dropping; that her pulse is starting to slow; that if she keeps losing blood, she’ll die.

She’ll  _ die _ .

Nicole starts panting, sharp and shallow breaths that don’t get down far enough. She tries to suck in air harder, her lungs burning.

“No, no, no,” Cub says sharply, his voice cutting through the concert in her head. His hands are heavy on her chest, weighing her down. “Nice and slow, Sheriff.”

Justin brakes, hard, and Nicole feels her stomach turn again. The doors to the ambulance open and Nicole can hear the hospital pulsing. Cub is still talking to her, but he sounds underwater, and Nicole can’t make out all of his words. The stretcher slides forward like a shot and jerks to a stop. Something sharp cuts through her body.

“No, boys. Not now. Out of the way,” Cub demands. “Move.”

Nicole can hear people shouting, and then Landry, loud and authoritative; his on-duty voice. “She’s the Sheriff, we need-”

“To get out of my way,” Cub says firmly. Nicole can’t see him, but she can picture him: standing tall, Linda’s eyes, his chest puffed out. She knows the pose. She watched him practice it when he was six, standing up to Bobby Cartman, after Bobby took his quarters. She knows he’s doing it now, because the stretcher starts moving again and the night sky above her fades into the fluorescent lights.

“ _ Nicole _ !”

Nicole’s throat burns when she speaks. “Wave-”

Her mom’s hands are cool on her face. “Baby, what happ-” She looks at Cub. “What happened?”

Cub shakes his head. “You need to call Waverly,” he says. “You need to call her  _ now _ .”

“We’re set!” someone yells. 

Her mom pushes back her hair. “I’m right here, baby. And I’ll call Waverly, okay?” She leans down, kissing Nicole’s forehead softly. “Go. Be brave.”

_ “Go,” Chrissy whispers. She winks. “Be brave.” _

_ Nicole stumbles into the closet, gagging at the smell of Aquanet and aftershave and mothballs. There’s coats in here that Nicole recognizes, ones Stephanie has worn before.  _ I’m inside Stephanie’s basement closet _ , she reminds herself.  _ Playing seven minutes in heaven.

_ She looks up.  _ With Waverly.

_ “We Got The Beat” is blasting above her, there’s a coat hanger digging into her back, and Waverly won’t look at her.  _

Be brave _ , Chrissy had said. She swallows hard and tries to make her face do something, but it won’t. She counts to 45 in her head, a whole three lines of “We Got The Beat” and then she can’t take the silence anymore. _

_ “How was dancing with Champ?” _

_ Waverly shrugs. “He was fine.” _

_ Everything in Nicole’s body feels like it’s on fire. Her hands burn hot, and the back of her neck is a raging inferno. Waverly is in a black and pink skirt and a silky pink top that Nicole can’t stop looking at. She’s as bright as the neon lights above Shorty’s, and it makes Nicole want to reach out and touch, just to feel the lights hum. _

_ “Wicked,” she murmurs. _

_ She’s embarrassed and angry now. Waverly didn’t want to come here  _ with _ her, she wanted a ride. And Waverly didn’t want to be in this closet with her; she was probably hoping that when she spun the bottle, it landed on  _ Champ _. _

_ “If you wanted to come with Champ, you could have just told me,” Nicole says. _

Then I wouldn’t have come, _ she thinks. _

_ Waverly looks at her again and Nicole can’t read her eyes. “But, I didn’t.” _

_ “Seems like it,” Nicole says. _

_ Waverly shakes her head slowly. “He asked me to dance. You just… You left .” _

_ Nicole narrows her eyes. “You didn’t look like you wanted to say no,” she accuses. _

_ Waverly scoffs, and the noise catches in Nicole’s chest, building up into a ball that makes it hard to breathe around. “Oh, as if,” Waverly says.  _

_ Nicole straightens up, feeling too big for the closet. She ignores the fuzzy coat in her ear, scratching against her skin. “You just wrapped your arms around his stupid neck and let him book it across the room.” _

_ She can’t shake the image from her mind: Champ’s meaty hands at Waverly’s waist, brushing his thumbs over Waverly’s hip bones. Waverly is ticklish, Nicole knows, if you press just hard enough. She’s done it before, curled up under the blanket watching television with Waverly late at night. She knows exactly where to push to make Waverly squeal and buck away and laugh. _

Champ _ doesn’t know. He just moved his hands over Waverly’s hips and he knows  _ nothing _.  _

_ “You’re mental,” Waverly says, pointing a finger at her. _

_ Nicole jabs a finger into her chest. “Me?  _ You’re _ mental,” she fires back. The ache in her chest is too much, her whole body heaving as she tries to calm down. It’s Champ and Waverly. It’s  _ always _ going to be Champ and Waverly. She doesn’t know why she thinks it’ll change. _

_ She sighs. “Waverly, I’m-” _

_ Lights explode behind her eyes, flashes of neon and sparklers. Waverly is kissing her, cool hands on Nicole’s neck and hot lips against her own. Waverly’s wristband scratches against her leather jacket and Nicole doesn’t care, too dizzy on the lights and the taste of punch on Waverly’s lips.  _

_ Waverly is kissing her.  _

Waverly _ is kissing her. _

_ Waverly is kissing  _ her _.  _

_ Nicole’s hands hang uselessly at her side for a moment before her brain kicks into gear. She’s lifts her arms, her hands searching, trying to find Waverly’s hips. Waverly pulls back, eyes dark and heavy, but bright.  _

_ The song changes; “Just Like Heaven” comes on, and Nicole can still hear it through the walls and the ceiling and it’s echoing in her chest, beating out a rhythm over “Love Walks In” like those two songs were meant to play at the same time. Nicole can feel her pulse racing to keep pace, to match the bassline, while her lungs scream like a synth guitar. _

_ “Waverly,” she breathes out. _

_ Waverly looks up at her through her eyelashes. Her eyelids look heavy, too, and she’s taking slow, shallow breaths. Her hands are still on Nicole’s neck, holding her still. Her eyes trace Nicole’s face, trying to find something. Nicole wants to give her  _ everything _. _

_ “Rules are rules,” Waverly whispers. “It’s the rules, right?” _

“It’s the rules,” someone is shouting. “You can’t just storm in here and-”

“Watch me,” someone else snarls back.

“Wa-wait,” Nicole manages. Sh reaches out for something, not touching anything, but there’s hands gripped tight around the bar of the gurney she’s on, and she blinks slowly, trying to find the face the hands belong to.

“Sheriff,” someone says in her ear. “It’s me. It’s Lonnie.”

“Lon,” she rasps. “Where’s… Where’s…”

“Your mom is on the phone with Waverly now,” Lonnie says quickly. “She’s on her way.”

“Sus-” Nicole coughs, her whole body bucking. Hands press down against her chest, holding the soaked gauze in place. “Suspect,” Nicole tries again.

Lonnie’s eyes narrow for a quick second before he pulls a small notebook out of his front pocket, flipping it open. He licks the end of a pen and looks down at her expectantly.

“Suspect,” Nicole repeats.

Lonnie nods kindly. “Go on, then.”

“I really don’t think-”

“ _ Can it _ , Carol,” her mom says. She reaches out, brushing Nicole’s hair back off her face. “Go on, baby.”

Nicole inhales sharply, trying to find the strength to speak. “David,” she finally breathes out. “Dav-”

“David,” Lonnie repeats.

“Doucette,” Nicole finishes. 

Cub is suddenly in her face, eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“Doucette,” Nicole repeats. She stares at Cub, unblinking, trying to say she’s sorry; that she wishes it wasn’t him; that she wants it to be someone else,  _ anyone _ else. She tries to reach for Cub, but her arms won’t love, so she lifts her neck.

“No,” Cub says, the word breaking. “Don’t move.” He nods at her. “Tell them.”

“Male,” Nicole rasps. “5’9 or 5’10. Brown hair to his-”

“Chin,” Cub supplies. He rubs his hand through his hair. “I saw him.  _ Son of a bitch _ ,” he hisses.

Lonnie looks up at him. “Can you give a description?”

Cub nods, both hands pushing his hair out of his eyes. He starts to pace - one, two, three, four, turn and back again.

“Shot,” Nicole shouts, the words coming out like she took sandpaper to each letter.

“They’ll fix it, honey,” her mom soothes. “They’ll take care of it.”

Nicole shakes her head. “Dray. Shot.”

Cub turns, frowning. “Mrs. Dray?”

“Shot,” Nicole says hoarsely.

“Mrs. Dray got shot?” Cub asks.

Nicole shakes her head. “Shot… Dav-”

Cub’s eyes widen. “Mrs. Dray shot him.”

Nicole exhales, her chest caving in as the air leaves her lungs. “Sor-sorry.”

Cub shakes his head, walking again. “I saw him,” he mutters. He grabs Lonnie by the jacket. “I saw him, heading West. Towards Main.”

Lonnie flips his notebook closed, sliding it into his pocket again. “Go on,” he tells the nurse. “We’re good here.”

“Oh, are you?” Carol mutters. She shoulders Lonnie out of the way.

Lonnie leans over her, catching Nicole’s eyes. “We’ll get him, Sheriff. We got a description, and we’ll get him,” he promises.

_ “Haught, do you have a description?” Linda calls. _

_ Nicole frowns at the radio, lifting the mic to her mouth. “Say again, Linda?” _

_ The line is quiet for a moment, and Nicole sighs, putting the mic down and scanning the street again. Nothing has changed in the last minute since she looked away. Cal’s Corner is quiet; it’s late and there’s no one out except kids on their bicycles, trying to get home before their curfew. _

_ “A description of my officer,” Linda finally says. _

_ Nicole holds the mic to her mouth. “Linda, what the hell-” _

_ The radio crackles, and Linda cuts her off. “Female, 19-years-old, 5’9. Red hair, dark brown eyes. Smartass. Funny. Smiling all the time.” _

_ Nicole leans forward, resting her head against the steering wheel. “Linda,” she starts. _

_ “I’m asking because the only female officer I have is a grouch, deadweight lately.” _

_ Nicole sits back up, making a face at herself in the rearview mirror. “Hey,” she protests. “This is a public channel.” _

_ “Good,” Linda fires back. She pauses for a moment, the radio cackling. “Go and call the station, would you?” _

_ Nicole frowns. “How do you know I’m near a phone?” _

_ “Haught,” Linda warns. _

_ Nicole sighs and gets out of her cruiser, leaving her hat on the seat. She hitches up her belt, thumbing her holster before she starts walking to the phone booth outside of Cal’s. She waves at Cal through the window, nodding at him before she slips into the booth. She pauses, breathing in sharply. _

_ She hasn’t been inside this booth in seventeen days, twenty-one hours, and forty-three minutes, the last time she called Waverly while on shift. It’s been fifteen days since she last talked to Waverly. _

_ It’s been the worst fifteen days of her life. _

_ It’s worse than high school, when she would slink around corners to avoid seeing Waverly in the hallway. It’s worse than the Academy, being so far away from Waverly. It’s worse than the first few weeks of Waverly being away at school. She could have gone to see Waverly in high school, if she wanted to. She could have taken a weekend off at the Academy, if she wanted to. She could have driven up to see Waverly, if she wanted to. If she wanted to see Waverly, she could have; Waverly wanted to see her. _

_ Now, all she wants is Waverly, but she’s almost positive Waverly doesn’t want to see her. _

_ She picks up the phone with a shaking hand, forcing the other down into her pocket, pulling at the fabric before she pulls a few coins out and slides them into the machine. The dial tone drones on for a moment before Nicole remembers the number she’s supposed to be calling. _

_ Linda picks up after the first ring. “Gus has been down here looking for you,” Linda says into her ear. “Looked as mad as Nedley at one of those mayoral meetings.” _

_ Nicole sighs. She lifts her arm, bracketing it against the side of the phone booth. She leans into her forearm, breathing out heavily. “Mad?” _

_ “Livid,” Linda corrects. “Nearly tossed my forms rack.” _

_ “No, she didn’t,” Nicole says wearily. _

_ “She could have.” Linda sighs. “Nicole-” _

_ “No,” Nicole says firmly. “I don’t want to talk about it.” _

_ “Well, she knows something is wrong,” Linda says sharply. “The whole damn town knows.” _

_ Nicole sighs again. “I don’t want to talk to her.” _

_ “That woman has done nothing to you.” _

_ Nicole leans back against the booth wall, toeing the glass. Gus is all she has left, at this point.  _ Well,  _ she thinks.  _ Mom, too.  _ But but her mom is working doubles all the time now, trying to account for the income they lost with Nathan out of work. Nathan is off in Abee, or Bellis, or Clyde, or Perryvale - depending on the day - and he’s always drunk. Wynonna is off in Manitoba or Moosonee, leaning over the handlebars of her motorcycle. And Waverly is… _

_ Waverly isn’t her girlfriend anymore. _

_ “I know,” Nicole breathes. _

_ “So stop by her damn diner, would you?” Linda blows out a mouthful of air, and the noise makes Nicole wince. “I know it hurts, girl.” _

_ Nicole feels her eyes start to burn, and she blinks hard to keep the tears away. “Yeah,” she rasps. _

_ “But tomorrow, it’ll hurt a little less. And the next day, it’ll hurt less than that.” _

_ “Sure it will,” Nicole says flatly. _

_ “Nicole Haught,” Linda scolds. “Don’t get sassy with me.” _

_ “No promises,” Nicole mutters. _

_ There’s a pause and Nicole wrinkles her nose as she listens to Linda holler something at Lonnie. “I’ve got to go,” Linda finally says. “Lonnie’s managed to get his hand stuck in the coffee pot.” _

_ “The… The coffee pot,” Nicole repeats. _

_ “Jesus, I’m going to have to knock him out to get his hand out of this thing,” Linda grumbles. “He’s flailing around like a newborn foal.” _

_ Nicole snorts softly. “Well, there’s a Polaroid in my desk, if you do decide to knock him out, okay?” _

“We’re going to put you under now,” someone says into her ear, a nurse she’s never met before. Her hands are warm on Nicole’s shoulders, peeling off her Sheriff’s badge. She places it carefully in a small plastic bin. 

Nicole tries to speak, but her throat is too tight again. Something is burning her eyes, and hot drops roll down her cheeks towards her ears. Everything feels like it’s moving too slow around her. She tries to speak, tries to lift her head to look for her mom or Waverly. She tries to reach for someone, to call out a name, but she’s moving underwater.

She’s  _ drowning _ .

“Just hold still, dear,” the nurse says quietly.

_ “Just hold it still,” Nicole directs. _

_ Waverly looks back over her shoulder. “Do  _ you _ want to hang this thing?” _

_ Nicole shakes her head. _

_ “Then I suggest you can it _ , _ ” Waverly mumbles. She pushes the frame an inch higher and looks back over her shoulder. “Better?” _

_ Nicole tips her head to one side, staring at the framed magazine cover. “Yeah, perfect.”  _

_ Waverly huffs and brings the hammer in her hand down, narrowly  missing the framed magazine cover. _

_ “Careful,” Nicole says sharply. “That’s-” _

_ “Yeah, yeah. I get it,” Waverly mumbles. _

_ Nicole shakes her head, slipping up behind Waverly. She presses her mouth to Waverly’s neck, nipping at the soft skin there for just a moment. “It’s  _ our  _ apartment,” she says, exhaling. _

_ Waverly grins, tipping her head one way so Nicole can kiss more of the soft skin she finds there. “I know.” _

_ “We rent it   _ together _ ,” Nicole says. “For the both of us.” _

_ “And Styx,” Waverly adds, looking down at the dog scampering around their ankles, chasing a tennis ball. “For him, too.” _

_ “It’s  _ ours _ ,” Nicole repeats. _

_ Waverly turns, looping her arms around Nicole’s neck. She pulls Nicole down, lifting herself higher, and their hips press together tightly, stealing the air from Nicole’s lungs. “We get to argue about where the silverware goes,” Waverly exhales. _

_ Nicole scoffs. “There’s only one place it can go.” _

_ Waverly grins. “Yeah, the right place. AKA, where  _ I _ say it goes.” _

_ Nicole laughs and kisses Waverly, backing her up against the counter in a few short steps. “It’s ours,” she whispers. “It’s all ours.” _

_ “For the rest of our lives,” Waverly says back, her fingertips curling around the end of Nicole’s hair. “I love you.” She lifts up onto her tiptoes, kissing Nicole hard.  _

_ Nicole’s fingers flex against Waverly’s hips, pressing into the soft skin just below her waistband. “We’re really doing this,” she murmurs against Waverly’s mouth. _

_ Waverly pulls back a little. “Of course we’re- We were  _ always _ going to do this. Right?” _

_ Nicole nods quickly. “I know, I know.” She pauses. “Well, sometimes I didn’t know,” she admits. “Like, your freshman year. And because of Nathan and-” She stops, shaking her head. “I always  _ hoped _.” _

_ “I knew,” Waverly breathes out. “I knew from the minute I put my toothbrush down in the bathroom in your apartment above The Patch.” She runs her hands down Nicole’s front, tracing hearts and letters. “That’s where my toothbrush was going to stay.” _

_ Something in Nicole’s chest catches, and she shakes her head to clear her eyes.  _ A toothbrush _ , she thinks.  _ I’m getting emotional over a toothbrush.

_ “Are you getting emotional over a toothbrush?” Waverly asks. _

“No _ ,” Nicole says quickly. “I’m just thinking about how you’re a total know-it-all.” _

_ Waverly lifts an eyebrow slowly. _

_ “I mean, a smartypants,” Nicole corrects. “A total babe, starting her second year of teaching in T-minus…” She checks her watch. “Five days.” _

_ “T-minus,” Waverly repeats. “You know, you’re a dweeb.” _

_ “Well, if you haven’t figured that out by now…” Nicole kisses Waverly again, pulling Waverly just a little closer.  _ “You’re _ kind of a noob.” _

_ Waverly grins at her. “Well, if you haven’t figured that out by now, Nicole Haught, I don’t know what you’ve been paying attention to all these years.” _

_ Nicole sucks her lips in, fighting a laugh. _

_ Waverly jabs a finger in her direction. “Don’t you dare say anything.” _

_ Nicole drags a finger over her lips. “They’re sealed,” she murmurs. _

_ Waverly shakes her head and nudges Nicole back, through the nearly-empty room to the couch Nicole and Doc had moved in earlier while Waverly was taking care of all of the final signings, gossiping downstairs with Ms. Ruthie. They drop down onto it, laughing when Styx crawls up after them and knocks them out of his way, letting him settle in the space between them. She looks back over her shoulder, catching sight of the magazine cover they just hung. _

_ “What’re you’re you thinking about?” Waverly asks. _

How happy I am to be here with you _ , Nicole thinks. _

_ Nicole smiles and shakes her head instead, sure Waverly can hear her heart beating out of her chest, wild and relentless. _

Something starts beeping - wild and unrelenting - and Nicole feels weightless.

“We need to go,  _ now _ ,” someone shouts. “Before she goes into cardiac arrest.”

“Don’t stall on me,” a nurse instructs, her hand on Nicole’s face. “You hear me? Don’t stall on me now.”

_ “Quit stalling” Wynonna huffs, glaring at her. “It’s like you’ve never held a baby before.” _

_ Nicole shakes her head slowly. “She’s just…” _

_ “Annoying?” Wynonna offers. _

_ “Perfect,” Nicole breathes. “She’s  _ perfect _ , Wynonna.” _

_ Wynonna’s cheeks burn for a moment, and she looks down, picking at the cheap hospital blanket draped around her waist. Doc slides a little closer to her on the bed.  “She’s okay, yeah.” _

_ Nicole looks up, eyes wide. “Okay? She’s  _ okay _?” She looks back down at the small infant in her arms, rocking her side to side. “You’re  _ perfect _ ,” she tells Alice. “Practically perfect in every way.” _

_ Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Okay, Mary Poppins.” _

_ Nicole ignores her, moving around the room slowly. She paces back and forth - one, two, three, four, turn and back again - swaying as she takes measured steps. Alice is sleeping, wrapped tightly into the blanket Waverly had made for her, with a motorcycle pattern on it. She’s got ten perfect fingers, ten perfect toes, two perfect eyes, and one perfectly beating heart - Nicole checked earlier.  _

_ “Oh,” Nicole says suddenly. “Can you get my bag?” _

_ Wynonna raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re asking the woman who just gave birth to get you things?” _

_ Nicole stares at her. “You gave birth three days ago. And thanks to all that reading you made Doc do, and all the fact-sharing he did, I now know that a woman’s va-” _

_ “That is quite enough!” Doc says loudly. _

_ Nicole shushes him. Wynonna glares at him. _

_ “Listen, mister,” Wynonna says sharply. “We are not going to raise our daughter to be scared of the word  _ vagina _ , do you hear me?” _

_ Doc gulps. “Of course.” _

_ Wynonna nods firmly. “Now, get Nicole her bag.” When Doc turns to get the bag, Wynonna winks. _

_ Doc lifts the bag up onto the bed, opening the zipper. “Is there anything of particular interest in here?” _

_ “My Walkman,” Nicole says. She sways closer to the bed, popping out one hip so that Doc can slide the Walkman onto her belt. “The tape I want is already in there,” she tells him. _

Already in there and already at the right place, _ she thinks. _

_ She leans forward, letting Doc slide the headphones onto her ears. She shakes her head. “No, around my neck,” she instructs. _

_ “Of course,” he says, settling the thin wire around her neck. _

_ Wynonna settles back against the bed, pulling Doc down against her. Nicole can see them out of the corner of her eye: Wynonna winding her arm through Doc’s, her cheek pressed against Doc’s shoulder. Doc turns his head and presses a soft kiss to the top of Wynonna’s forehead. _

_ Carefully, Nicole hunches over, pressing ‘play’ on her Walkman. _

_ “She's got a smile it seems to me reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky.” _

_ She spins in a slow circle, swaying back and forth, singing “Sweet Child O’ Mine” to Alice. _

_ “Hear that, baby girl?” she asks, dusting her lips over Alice’s forehead. “That’s your song. Can you hear it?” _

“Nicole?” the nurse asks. “Nicole, can you hear me?”

_ You sound too far away _ , Nicole thinks.

_ “Don’t go too far!” Nicole shouts at Hayley. _

_ Hayley laughs, kicking a pile of leaves up at Alice. _

_ Wynonna bumps her shoulder, catching her attention. “You’re not going to get all  _ emotional _ about this, are you?” _

_ Nicole presses a hand to her chest. “Me? Emotional?” _

_ “Yes, you,” Wynonna says. She bumps Nicole’s shoulder again. “You’re already tearing up, aren’t you?” _

_ Nicole scowls. “I am not.” _

_ “Are, too.” _

_ “Am not.” _

_ “Are-” _

_ “Aunt Waverly says you’re not a’possed to do that,” Alice says. _

_ Wynonna frowns. “Do what?” _

_ “Act like you’re  _ my _ age.” Alice plants her hands on her hips. “Where’re we going ‘nyway?” _

_ “Somewhere they have a couple of front teeth,” Wynonna says. “So we can put them back in that thick head of yours.” _

_ “If she has a thick head, she only got it from one place,” Nicole says. _

_ Wynonna puffs out her chest. “Not me.” _

_ “You,” Nicole says at the same time. _

_ Alice wrinkles her nose. “You guys are weird.” _

_ “Are not,” Wynonna says quickly. _

_ “Are-” Alice stops, glaring. “I’m not falling for your ‘illy tricks.” _

_ “We’re not weird,” Nicole explains. She throws her arm across Wynonna’s shoulders, pulling her into a headlock. “We’re best friends.” _

_ Hayley doubles back, skipping. Her hair, fire-red, trails behind her. For a moment, Nicole loses it in the changing leaves. Hayley collides with her, her arms winding around Nicole’s legs. Nicole grins widely, reaching down to run her fingers through the long, silky strands of hair. _

_ “When did you get so big?” she asks. _

_ Hayley blinks up at her. “I ate my broccoli. Last week.” _

_ “Last week,” Nicole repeats, nodding. “That must be it.” _

_ “Auntie Nicole?” Hayley asks. _

_ Nicole hums, walking again. Hayley keeps pace with her, still clinging to her jeans. _

_ “Where’re we goin’?” _

_ Nicole smiles a little wider. “You’ll see.” _

_ It doesn’t take long to find the clearing, the walk a little slower with a seven- and five-year-old dragging their feet. It’s overgrown now, more wild than it had been twenty years ago. It’s been a few years, too, since she’s taken Styx through here; he’s older now and prefers napping to long walks through the woods. _

_ Wynonna elbows her gently. “We’re here.” _

_ Nicole inhales sharply, tipping her head back to look up at the tree she’s standing in front of. It seemed bigger, fifteen years ago when she climbed up to pull Wynonna down from the ledge. She opens her mouth to say something, to call it underwhelming, but she looks down and stops. _

_ Hayley and Alice are staring up at the tree, their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open in awe. Nicole pauses, trying to see it from their perspective. Something warm fills her stomach, and she glances at Wynonna, grinning. _

_ “Do you know what this place is called?” Nicole asks quietly. Leaves crunch under her boots as she walks the clearing, counting steps from the base of the tree to an overgrown patch of long grass. She pushes back the grass, ripping some blades loose until she can see the wooden sign nailed to a stick in the ground. Her fingers trip over the letters, grooved deep into the board. _

_ ‘Sekrit Hideout’ she traces, something sparking in the tips of her fingers. _

_ “What?” Alice asks, her voice just as quiet. _

_ Wynonna crouches down, patting her knee. Alice sits quickly, her arms looped around Wynonna’s neck. “It’s called the ‘Secret Hideout,” she says. _

_ “ _ Sekrit _ Hideout,” Nicole corrects. She ignores Wynonna’s huff of annoyance. “This used to be our secret spot away from everything else,” she explains. _

_ “Except from your Auntie Waverly, because she was an annoying little pissa-” _

_ “Language,” Nicole interrupts. _

_ Alice grins, the gap wide where she’s missing her two front baby teeth. “That’s a quarter for the jar.” _

_ “Add it to my tab,” Wynonna mutters.  _

_ “This was where we would come and spend our time after school,” Nicole continues. “I taught your mom how to swim in the lake, just beyond those trees.” _

_ Alice narrows her eyes. “You must be a bad teacher. She won’t even get in the bath with me.” _

_ Nicole rolls her eyes. “One day, I’m going to tell you how I  _ dragged _ your mom through the water to get to the treasure.” _

_ Hayley’s eyes widen. “The treasure?” _

_ Nicole catches Wynonna’s eye, winking. “Oh, yes,” she breathes. “The treasure.” _

_ “Uncle Curtis, he told us about the treasure.” Wynonna adds. “Back when we were just a little older than you are now. _

_ Alice stands up quickly. “I want to know about the treasure.” _

_ Nicole inhales loudly, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know if you’re ready…” _

_ “We’re ready!” Hayley and Alice yell at the same time. _

_ Wynonna shrugs, mimicking Nicole. “I’m not sure. I mean, have you come up with a secret handshake, yet?” _

_ Alice grabs Hayley by the hand, pulling her closer to the base of the tree. She sits, tugging Hayley down beside her, and immediately starts talking, her hands moving up and down as she manipulates Hayley’s hand into something that looks like it came right out of  _ The Parent Trap _. _

_ “God,” Wynonna sighs. “They’re going to grow up on us, aren’t they?” She sways, her hip bumping Nicole’s. “We’ll blink one day, and we’ll be old and dying and they’ll be showing their kids this same spot. And we’ll be just some story, you know? Legends.”  _

_ “ _ Heroes _ ,” Nicole says softly. She pauses. “We’re gonna…” She trails off, the thought dying on the tip of her tongue. _

_ Wynonna frowns. “Nicole?”  _

“Nicole?” a voice that sounds like Waverly’s asks.

 

-

“Nicole,” Curtis says.

Nicole blinks, the light around her too bright. She closes her eyes again and tries to open them slower, blinking rapidly to clear the tears building. She holds a hand up, shielding herself from the blinding light, and lets her eyes adjust.

“Nicole,” Curtis says again. He reaches for her, and she flinches when his hand finds her shoulder, squeezing. “Hey, girl. You alive in there?”

Nicole frowns. “I don’t… Am I dead?”

Curtis laughs, a full and deep sound that Nicole hasn’t heard in years. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re not,” Nicole breathes. “You’re not… alive.”

“No, I’m not,” Curtis agrees.

The light starts to fade, and the room swirls around her, a heavy mist clouding her vision before it drifts away. She blinks, tipping her head in confusion. “We’re at The Patch?” she asks.

It’s The Patch, but it’s not  _ her _ Patch. The tables are bare and worn down, the paint gone where people rest their elbows. The jukebox is in the corner, but it’s quiet now, the neon light tubes around the edges muted. The big neon tomato in the window is missing fluid in some patches, but it’s still burning bright in others. The sugar containers are half-gone, and the jelly stacks look a mess. A part of Nicole wants to call into the kitchen for Waverly; to ask her to come help set this place for the morning. Another part of her knows Waverly isn’t here - wherever  _ here _ really is.

“Where else would we be?” Curtis asks. He sits down next to her, using a stack of milk crates as a stool. “You know, Gus used to tell me that the only thing I loved more than her was this place. Our little tomato patch.”

“I would have guessed music,” Nicole mumbles.

Curtis laughs again. “That’d be a good guess,” he agrees. “You’re a good cop, Nicole.”

“I’m the Sheriff,” she says. She reaches for her badge, but it’s gone.  _ In the bin _ , she reminds herself.  _ The nurse took it off of you. _

“You’re the Sheriff,” Curtis repeats. He slaps his flat palm across his knee. “Hot damn, girl. I knew you would do it someday.”

“You did,” Nicole whispers.

Curtis  _ always _ knew, even when Nicole didn’t. 

“You missed so much,” Nicole says, picking at the soft skin around her thumb. She lifts her arm up, holding her hand in front of her face. There’s no burn, no stretch. Gently, she probes at her shoulder - it’s a solid wall of muscle and skin and bone. No entry wound. No exit. 

Curtis’s forehead wrinkles, and his eyes sparkle. “Did I?”

Nicole rubs her thumb across her finger on her left hand, frowning when she doesn’t catch her ring. It’s not on her hand, but there’s a small ring of lighter skin where it usually sits. “We grew up.”

“You did,” Curtis agrees.

“We had to do it without you.” Nicole rubs at the muscle just above her knee. “Wynonna was…” She trails off. “She’s still mad at you, sometimes.”

Curtis sighs and rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m mad at me, too, girl.”

“Oh,” Nicole breathes out. “I have pictures.” She reaches for her wallet, to show Curtis one of the ten pictures she has inside of it - some of Hayley and Hank, some of Alice, one of Rand, and most of Waverly - but there’s nothing there. “I  _ had _ pictures.”

“I’ve got ‘em here,” Curtis says, tapping a fingertip to his temple.

Something angry flares in Nicole’s stomach. It spreads through her chest and it burns in her lungs.  _ No _ , she wants to shout.  _ No, you don’t have them _ . 

_ You missed it all _ , she wants to yell at him.

She shakes her head instead. “It’s not the same,” she says quietly. “Without you here, it’s not the same.”

Curtis laughs softly. “Nicole, I’ve  _ always _ been there.” He presses his hand to his chest, two fingers thumping over his heart. “Right here.”

“It’s not the same,” Nicole repeats. She curls her hands into fists. Her fingernails cut into her palm and she breathes in slowly. “You didn’t teach me how to drive a car. You didn’t see Waverly give her valedictorian speech. You didn’t lecture Wynonna on the dangers of driving her motorcycle across the country.” She stands up, pacing in front of him. “You didn’t walk Waverly down the aisle,  _ Gus _ did. You didn’t chase Wynonna down from every high place she got herself stuck in. You didn’t hold Alice when she was born. You didn’t drag Nathan out of bar after bar. You weren’t there when Waverly dumped me. You weren’t there on my first day as Sheriff. You didn’t pick Wynonna up in the middle of the night when she crashed her bike. You didn’t help Mattie pack up The Forge when she closed the doors. You didn’t help Gus get through the flu that nearly killed her. You didn’t do  _ any _ of it.  _ I  _ did that. I-” She stops, inhaling sharply. “I…”

“You kept them on track,” Curtis finishes.

“I tried to,” Nicole says quickly, her neck burning. “They got off sometimes.” Her shoulders slump and she shakes her head slowly, panting. “Especially Wynonna.”

Curtis taps his fingers against his thigh. It takes Nicole a minute to catch the beat, but when she does, she almost rolls her eyes. Curtis always loved Fleetwood Mac. “That first day you rode by the house, do you remember?”

Nicole frowns, nodding. 

“I knew you were going to be special,” Curtis says. “I could see it. I watched the way Waverly looked at you, like you were something she’d never seen before. I remember Wynonna wondering what she was looking at, and when I turned around, the two of them were standing in Gus’s flowers, watching you ride away.” He sighs and leans forward, his elbows digging into the tops of his knees. “And I won’t lie to you and tell you that I knew I didn’t have the time I wanted with you girls. I thought I had a whole lifetime. I thought I’d walk Waverly down the aisle. I thought I’d hold my grandchild.” He sighs again. “I thought I’d grow old with Gus, and we’d die a week apart from each other.”

“I mean, you were old,” Nicole whispers.

Curtis shoulders her gently. “I wanted to watch you girls grow up and be the people I knew you were going to be. As soon as I got that call from Nedley, that Ward had passed and no one could get a hold of Wendy, but there were two girls sitting in his station who needed a friendly face, I knew I wanted nothing more than to watch them grow up, to raise them. And then you came along, hellbent on being friends with Wynonna, always including Waverly.” He shakes his head. “I went from teaching Bobo how to hold a knife to teaching you girls how to tie your shoes. And I loved it.”

“I always thought…” Nicole shakes her head, trying to clear her eyes. “I didn’t think I could be one of your girls. I had a dad. He lived somewhere else, and he had another family, but he was alive. Ward died and you were all Waverly and Wynonna had left, and I thought it was…  _ selfish _ to want you to be mine, too.”

“Nicole Haught,” Curtis says, his voice low and firm. “You have  _ always _ been one of mine. From the moment I walked out onto the front porch and caught you in a rant to Wynonna about why Tucker Gardner deserved to have to eat leftover sloppy joe meat for the rest of his life for bothering Waverly, I knew you were one of my girls.”

Nicole blinks hard. “But-”

“It’s not up for debate, girl,” Curtis says sharply. His voice softens. “You know, I thought about you girls.”

Nicole frowns. “You thought about us?”

“In the truck, when I had my heart attack,” Curtis explains. “I thought about you and the girls and Gus. I worried about you.”

Something like anger flares in her chest.  _ If he cared, he wouldn’t have gone _ , she thinks.

“I was worried you wouldn’t get on without me.” Curtis snorts. “I should have known.”

“They don’t need us,” someone says.

Nicole turns around, her eyes narrowing as the shape of a person comes closer. “Linda?”

“I hope so,” Linda says. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, girl?”

Nicole sighs, rubbing at her knee. “A mess,” she says.

“A mess,” Linda says over her. “Got yourself shot, huh?”

There’s a faint ache in her shoulder and her her leg. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No one  _ means _ to get shot,” Linda says flatly. “Of course you didn’t mean to.”

“I thought it was a raccoon,” Nicole says, the words feeling foolish, even as she says them aloud.

Linda nods, understanding. “Mrs. Dray, huh?” She sighs. “Should have known it’d be something as foolish as that.” She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. “You better be more careful the next time, you hear me? You’re the best thing that’s happened to this town, and we can’t have you playing hero, taking out a  _ raccoon _ that’s not a raccoon after all.”

She opens her mouth to argue. She’s not a hero, she’s just the Sheriff. Something flashes brightly in her eyes. “What’s that?”

Curtis laughs. “That’s the world, girl.”

It flashes again, and Nicole closes her eyes tightly, squeezing them until she sees black spots dancing when she opens them. “The what?”

“The world,” Curtis repeats. “Calling you back.”

Nicole frowns. “Back where?”

“Back home,” Linda says. Her hand slides off Nicole’s arm, and something cold rushes over Nicole’s skin. 

“I’m going home?” Nicole asks, confused. She thinks she can hear Joe Elliott singing again.

“ _ I’ve got a long, long way to go. _ ”

Linda laughs. “Of course you’re going home.”

“You’re not done yet, girl.” Curtis claps a hand down on her shoulder and squeezes softly, his fingers pressing into where she knows there’ll be a small scar later.

“Not done with what?” Nicole asks, blinking.

The world is getting fuzzy again, too bright. She tries to lift a hand to shield her eyes, but her arms feel too heavy. Her tongue feels dry in her mouth, like she has cotton stuffed between her teeth.

“Your track isn’t over,” Curtis says. “You’ve got miles to go, don’t you?”

“I…”

Linda smiles at her. “Go on, girl. Tell that Cub of mine he better keep his head above water.”

Nicole groans dropping to her knees. “Curtis, I-”

“Keep them on track, too, okay?” Curtis says, kneeling at her side. “And let them help you,” he whispers. “Let them take care of you, too. You’ve done so much, Nicole. It’s time you let someone help. Promise me. Promise me that you’ll let them keep  _ you _ on the right track. You promise me?”

“Prom-” Nicole groans again, her leg burning. “Curtis-”

Something flashes bright, and Nicole winces, a pull in her leg and her arm. She tries to reach out, but Curtis and Linda get farther and farther away until she can’t see them anymore. 

 

-

“Curtis,” Nicole croaks.

“Not Curtis,” someone says, their voice breaking. “You stupid, son of a-”

“Waverly,” someone else scolds softly.

“ _ No _ ,” Waverly spits.

Nicole blinks again, and the shapes in the room start to come into focus. She’s laid out on a bed, a white hospital gown draped over her body. Her shoulder burns when she tries to lean forward, and a hand presses hard against her other side, easing her back down. There’s white gauze around her leg, just above her knee, and tubes sticking out of her arms. She looks down at her feet, wiggling her toes, and hisses when her leg pulses sharply.

“Try not to move,” a man in a white coat suggests. He puts down his clipboard and comes around to her side.

Nicole’s vision blurs when she looks up too fast, but she blinks and finds Waverly, standing at the foot of the bed. Wynonna is at her side, a hand on her good shoulder.

“I saw Curtis,” she breathes out.

“Of course you did, you idiot,” Waverly spits. “You  _ died _ .”

Nicole sits up a little more. “I… I died?”

Waverly’s hand squeezes tight into a fist. “Yes, you-you  _ hoser _ .”

“Ooo,” Wynonna hisses. “She’s real mad.”

“Can it, Wynonna,” Nicole and Waverly say at the same time.

“Please,” the doctor says. “All of you, just try to take it easy.” He lifts a pen light, holding it in front of Nicole’s eyes. “Follow this?” He makes a noise in the back of this throat, a soft clicking sound, each time he moves the pen. “You did die,” he adds in a murmur. “Clinically speaking, I mean. You went into cardiac arrest for one minute and forty-eight seconds.”

“You got  _ shot _ ,” Waverly continues, glaring at Nicole. “I got a phone call from  _ Lonnie _ , telling me that you had been  _ shot _ .”

“I’m okay,” Nicole says quietly.

“You saw  _ Curtis _ ,” Waverly spits.

Nicole frowns. “I what?”

Waverly pauses. “You just said that you…” She trails off, frowning.

Nicole shakes her head slowly. She thinks, if she closes her eyes hard enough, that she can see Curtis. She can see the slope of his shoulders and the set of his smile, but the harder she tries to concentrate on him, the further away he gets. 

“Should she be forgetting that?” Waverly asks the doctor, her voice high and pitchy.

The doctor frowns. “It’s not uncommon. It sounds like it might have been a dream, of sorts.” The doctor shrugs to himself and turns back to Nicole. “What’s your name?”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Nicole Haught.”

The doctor nods. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Occupation?”

“Sheriff.”

“What’s the last thing you remember before being shot?”

Nicole pauses. “Waverly Earp, staring at me from her front porch.”

“What?” Waverly breathes.

Nicole shakes her head. “No,” she mutters. “That’s not right. That was… I was…”

“You were seven,” Waverly says gently.

Nicole looks up. “Right. I’m sorry.” She clears her throat. “Uh, I remember being surprised that there was a man inside the trash can. I was looking for a raccoon.”

The doctor looks up, frowning. “Well, you got a lot more than you bargained for, didn’t you?” He gives her a crooked smile. “Last question: who is the prime minister?”

“Paul Martin,” Nicole answers firmly.

The doctor looks up at Waverly “That’s the extent of the questions I can ask her, but if you start getting into more personal stuff and it seems like she’s not remembering situations or stories correctly, we’ll get her in with the neurology boys, okay?”

Waverly nods silently, her eyes still on Nicole.

The doctor mouths  _ good luck  _ at her and slips out the door.  

“I’m going to strangle you with my bare hands,” Waverly hisses at her.

There’s a hard rap at the door and it opens. Her mom pokes her head into the room, eyes lighting up as she sees Nicole awake. “Oh, baby,” she breathes out, pushing the door all the way open and moving into the room. She kisses Nicole’s forehead, smoothing back the flyaway hairs and tucking the longer strands behind Nicole’s ears. “Oh, my baby.”

“Gave us quite the scare,” Gus says, coming up beside her mom.

Nicole tries to blink back the tears she knows are coming. “So, what’s the prognosis?”

“The  _ diagnosis _ ,” her mom corrects, shaking her head. She smiles softly, like she used to when Nicole was younger and would sing George Michael songs, just to get a laugh.

“I know,” Nicole admits. “But I need you to stop staring at me like I’m about to break in two.”

“You already did,” her mom says. She sighs. “The bullet entered your pectoralis major, just below your clavicle and above your scapula.”

“So my wings are fine,” Nicole says, exhaling. “Okay. Good. Good.”

Waverly scowls and looks away.

“Your-” Her mom shakes her head. “You’ll need physical therapy for it, but I already talked to the nurse down there, Claire, and she said it won’t be too long. You’re young and active. You won’t be able to haul Hank around the backyard anymore, not for a bit, but-”

Nicole snorts. “I wasn’t going to be able to fly him around much longer anyway. I’m pretty sure he weighs about as much as Styx does now.” She takes another deep breath, bracing herself. “And my leg?”

“You missed the femoral artery,” her mom says. "Thank God. You nicked the bone, though, but just barely.” She shakes her head. “Either that man has the worst aim ever, or you’ve got someone looking out for you.”

Something pokes at the back of her brain, something telling her that there’s someone somewhere making sure she stays on the right track, but she shakes it off. “What about recovery?” she asks, not looking at Waverly.

“Physical therapy,” her mom says plainly. “For longer than your shoulder, I’d bet. You’ll need to learn how to put weight on it again, how to bend. Claire will tell you more, I promise.” Her mom leans in and presses her lips to Nicole’s forehead again. “I’m just  _ so glad _ you’re alive, baby.”

Nicole grabs her mom’s shirt, holding her close when she tries to pull away. “Will I…” She pauses, trying to get the question out, afraid to hear the answer. “Will I be able to get back on patrol?”

_ Or will I never be able to do the things I love again _ , she wonders.  _ Like Nathan. _

Her mom’s eyes soften. “Oh, baby,” she breathes out.

Nicole inhales sharply. “ _ Oh _ ,” she exhales. “Okay. I can, uh-”

“No, no,” her mom rushes out. “ _ No _ .” She brushes some of Nicole’s hair back. “You’re going to go back out there and patrol. And you’ll be able to run, or take Styx on a walk through the woods, or climb up the roof after those nieces of yours.” She sways in close, her fingers pressing hard against Nicole’s cheek. “You’ll go right back to being able to do  _ everything _ .”

The door opens again, and Nathan and Mercedes pile in. Nicole sniffs, wiping at her eyes. 

“Loverboy,” Mercedes sighs. “Figures you’d pull something dramatic to get out of our double date.”

Nicole frowns. “We didn’t have a double date scheduled.”

“Well, dammit,” Mercedes curses. “Here I was, hoping you’d experienced some kind of head trauma and I could convince you to run away with me.” She leans in, her lips against Nicole’s cheek. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Promise,” Nicole murmurs.

Nathan nods at her, sucking in his lower lip.

Her mom leans back in, fluttering around her nervously. “Baby,” she keeps repeating. “My baby.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “I’m not a baby. I’m not even a kid anymore. I’m an adult, you know.”

“You sure aren’t acting like one,” Waverly says, loud enough to be heard.

Nathan pauses, eyes darting between Nicole and Waverly.

“Waverly,” Nicole says softly.

_ “No _ ,” Waverly says. “I’m not going to sit here and be  _ proud _ of you for getting yourself shot.”

Wynonna’s eyes widen. Mercedes pulls back. Even Gus stares between them, waiting to see what’ll happen next.

“Uh, why don’t we let Waverly and Nicole have a minute,” Nathan says. Her mom opens her mouth - probably to argue back - but Nathan shakes his head sharply. “There’s a long line of people waiting to see her. Let’s get in it and wait our turn like the rest of the town.”

“We're not the rest of the town,” her mom grumbles. She kisses Nicole on the forehead anyway, her lips lingering for another minute before she leans back and slips out of the room. 

Nathan pauses, his hand on the door. “Rest, will you?”

Nicole nods, holding up her good hand, three fingers raised. “Scout’s honor.”

Nathan grins and shakes his head, holding the door open a second longer as Wynonna sneaks around him. He lets the door close gently behind him, leaving Nicole and Waverly alone.

“I am  _ so _ -”

“Come here,” Nicole says.

Waverly stares at her. “What?”

“Come here,” Nicole repeats. “You’re too far away and I can’t come to you, so… Come  _ here _ .”

Waverly slowly walks around the end of the bed, pausing at Nicole’s ankles before she moves in closer. “What?” she barks.

Nicole reaches across her body with her good hand, brushing her fingertips against Waverly’s jaw. “Sit with me.”

Waverly is already shaking her head before Nicole finishes the question. “No. No way.”

“Waverly,” Nicole tries.

“You had  _ two _ 10mm slugs pulled out of your body, Nicole Marie Haught,” Waverly hisses, her voice low and dark. “It  _ barely _ missed the femoral artery, which would have killed you instantly. So  _ no _ , I’m not getting up into this bed with you.”

“Baby.” Nicole grabs for Waverly’s hand, holding it to her chest. “Feel this,” she demands.

Waverly tries to pull away.

“No,” Nicole says. “ _ Feel it _ .”

“Okay,” Waverly says. “Okay, I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” Nicole breathes out. “I’m fine, okay? I’m fine. Now  _ please _ . Come here.”

Waverly’s lower lip trembles for a moment before she starts crying. She climbs up onto the bed next to Nicole, laying her head on Nicole’s good side, her arm around Nicole’s middle. Her tears are hot through the fabric of Nicole’s hospital gown, but Nicole holds Waverly tighter until she feels the anger fade from her shoulders; until Waverly is just sniffling into her side and her fingernails aren’t sharp against Nicole’s ribs.

“Baby?” Nicole asks quietly after a minute.

Waverly hiccups, lifting her head. “What?”

“Did they catch him?”

Waverly blinks at her. “ _ What _ ?”

Nicole swallows hard. “David. Doucette. Did they catch him?”

Waverly’s mouth falls open slowly before she blinks again. “Are you… Are you kidding me? You got  _ shot, _ and you want to know if-”

“Baby,” Nicole repeats.

Waverly sighs. “Yes,” she says sharply. “Yes, okay?” She waits for Nicole to nod. “He was on Rt. 81, trying to hitchhike his way out of town in the back of Champ Hardy’s truck.” She holds up her hand quickly, silencing Nicole’s question. “And before you ask, no. Champ didn’t know that there was an injured junkie in the bed of his truck, bleeding all over his fishing gear. He admitted to shooting you, and asked them to get the bullet out of his arm. Happy?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” Nicole whispers.

“Of course I’m going to be mad at you. I’m  _ furious _ . I’m  _ livid _ . I’m  _ irate _ . Pick a synonym for  _ mad _ , honey, because that’s what I am right now.” Waverly’s eyes flash. “You’re supposed to be safe. You’re not supposed to go out and get yourself  _ shot _ . On date night!”

Nicole smoothes her hand down over Waverly’s skirt. “You look nice.”

“Do  _ not _ try to compliment me right now, Nicole Haught,” Waverly snaps. She leans back down, pressing her forehead to Nicole’s good shoulder. “Do you know what it was like, to get that phone call?”

Nicole shakes her head. “I know what it’s like to make it.”

Waverly’s body shudders, and the thin fabric of Nicole’s hospital gown catches her tears. “And Lonnie was so…  _ calm _ .”

“He’s a good dispatcher,” Nicole says quietly. 

“He was so calm and collected and he told me that you’d been shot outside of Mrs. Dray’s house and that they were at the hospital and I thought-” Waverly stops. She sits back, her eyes red. “I thought you were gone. That my last memory of you was leaving you in bed this morning, so I could get to school early to make our date on time.”

Nicole tries to smile. “But what a last memory, huh?”

“ _ Nicole _ ,” Waverly rasps. “It’s not-”

“I know,” Nicole says quickly. “I know.” She brings her hand up, curling her fingers around the back of Waverly’s neck. “I know it’s not funny.”

“I didn’t even kiss you goodbye,” Waverly whispers.

Nicole pulls Waverly closer, kissing her forehead gently. “It’s okay,” she breathes. “ _ I’m _ okay.”

There’s a soft knock at the door before it opens, Wynonna popping her head around the frame with a careful smile. “Hey,” she says quietly. “I don’t want to interrupt, but there’s someone out here who really wants to see you. If that’s okay,” she adds in a rush.

Waverly nods, sitting up. She wipes at her eyes, and her lips twist into something like a smile. “Of course it’s okay. Just give me a second and I’ll-

“No,” Nicole says quickly, pulling Waverly back. She pushes through the sharp pain in her shoulder, lifting her hand to curl around the back of Waverly’s elbow. “No,” she repeats. “You have to kiss me goodbye.”

Waverly’s face is still wet, her bottom lip sticking to Nicole’s when she leans in. Her hands are hot against Nicole’s face, her fingertips burning a trail down Nicole’s jawline with a purpose. She can feel them even after Waverly pulls back, kissing her one last time before she slips off of the bed.

Wynonna meets Nicole’s eyes and waits for her nod before pushing the door open wider.

Alice peeks into the room, her shoulders tight around her ears. They soften when she sees Waverly, her eyes lighting up. “Auntie Wavey.”

Waverly bends down, scooping Alice up and settling her on her hip. Alice’s arms wind around Waverly’s neck, and she buries her face in Waverly’s hair. “Hello, little one.”

“I was worried,” Alice whispers, loud enough for Nicole to hear. “Mama and Papa were whispering in the hallway, but they weren’t telling secrets.” She lifts her head a little bit, looking at Nicole before looking away again. “Hayley was crying and Auntie ‘Cedes and Uncle Nate were crying and Grandma was being a grouch and-”

Wynonna coughs loudly. “I didn’t say _grouch_ ,” she says. “I said she was _being_ _grouchy_.”

Alice frowns. “No, you said-”

“Alice,” Wynonna cuts in. She cuts her hand across her throat. “Ix-nay on the ak-tay.”

Alice sticks out her tongue.

Waverly scowls at Wynonna. “Hush,” she instructs. She kisses the side of Alice’s head, rocking her back and forth. “Do you want to see Aunt Nicole now?”

Alice nods slowly. “Is she okay?” she whispers.

“Ask her yourself,” Waverly whispers back. She sets Alice down on the bed carefully.

Alice moves, sitting on her knees. She holds her hands close to her chest, like she’s afraid to lean on Nicole. “Are you okay?”

Nicole nods, suddenly unable to speak. She can feel a lump forming in her throat, but she can’t swallow past it.

“Uncle Nate said you were hurt real bad,” Alice says softly.

“I was,” Nicole says hoarsely. “But I’m okay now.”

Alice nods slowly. “What happened to you?”

Waverly moves closer, stroking her hand down through Alice’s hair, letting the ends curl around her finger. “A bad man-”

“A man,” Nicole corrects. “A man who made bad choices.”

Waverly’s eyes narrow, but she nods once. “A man who made bad choices,” she says slowly. “He made the worst choice of all, to hurt someone else.”

“Auntie ‘Cole?” Alice asks, her eyes wide.

Waverly gives her a thin smile. “But your Aunt is-”

“The biggest and baddest Sheriff in all of Purgatory,” Alice declares.

“The only Sheriff in Purgatory,” Wynonna cuts in.  

“Oh!” Alice says. “I brought you something. I’m not ‘pposed to have it, but Mama said that sometimes you have to break the rules to be the big dog.” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means your Mama is-”

“Smart,” Wynonna interrupts. “Cunning.”

“She cheats at Monopoly,” Nicole whispers to Alice.

Alice rolls her eyes. “ _ And _ Chutes & Ladders.”

Wynonna shrugs, unbothered.

Alice climbs down from the bed, the rubber soles of her sneakers hitting the tiled floor with a loud  _ slap _ . When she disappears behind the door, Nicole exhales loudly, her face twisting in pain.

“Oh, I see,” Wynonna says, her voice a hard edge Nicole isn’t expecting. “Putting on a big show for the kid, huh?”

Nicole looks up, blinking. “What?”

“I’m  _ so _ going to kill you, you know that?” Wynonna stalks forward, jabbing Nicole in the forehead. “I told you. I  _ told _ you. What did I tell you?”

“I-”

“I said,” Wynonna interrupts loudly. “Not to go out there and be a stupid hero. And what did you do?” She pokes Nicole again. “What did you do?”

“I went out there and was a stupid hero,” Nicole recites.

Wynonna looks at Waverly. “Is she… Is she really trying to be a  _ smartass _ right now?”

Waverly purses her lips. “Don’t look at me. She’s  _ your _ best friend.”

“She’s  _ your _ wife,” Wynonna fires back.

“I’m not dead,” Nicole interrupts. She holds up her hand when they both turn to her. “I’m not dead. I’ll need physical therapy, and I’ll probably ride in a car for this year’s County Fair, but I’m not dead.”

“You will be when I kill you,” Wynonna says through gritted teeth. She sighs, running her hand through her hair. “And waking up talking about Curtis? What is this, some kind of after school special?”

“Wynonna,” Nicole says gently.

“I mean, what the  _ hell _ were you thinking?” Wynonna continues over her. “You never go anywhere without backup, Nicole.”

“Wynonna,” Nicole tries again.

“ _ You _ made that stupid rule after Diaz tripped in a pothole and twisted his ankle.  _ You’re  _ the one who said no one goes anywhere alone.” Wynonna swallows audibly, her eyes red at the edges. “ _ You’re _ the one-”

“Wynonna,” Nicole says.

“ _ What? _ ” Wynonna spits.

Nicole breathes out slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be, you-”

“Wynonna,” Nicole says calmly. “I’m  _ sorry _ .”

Wynonna sobs once, her hand covering her mouth. “I better  _ never _ -” She stops, wiping at her cheeks. “If you ever make me have to get that phone call again, I swear to Alyssa Milano, Haught. Me and Waves will resurrect you just to put your ass in the ground again.”

Nicole nods slowly. “I love you, too.”

“Don’t start with me,” Wynonna says. She rubs at her eyes. “I’d kill you if you hadn’t already died today.”

Nicole reaches for Wynonna’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Wynonna rolls her eyes and leans in, pressing her lips to Nicole’s head firmly. 

“I hate you,” Wynonna mutters.

“I know,” Nicole whispers.

Wynonna kisses her again. “But I love you.”

“I know that, too.” Nicole leans away and smiles softly. “I won’t do it again, okay?” She looks at Waverly. “Okay? I’ll stay on the right track.”

Waverly’s fingers slip around her ankle. “We’ll help.”

Nicole pauses, something about her words sounding familiar, but she shakes off the feeling.

The door opens, and Alice comes barreling back in, Doc hot on her heels.

“Excuse me, little miss, but I do believe I told you to hold your horses,” he says kindly.

“And I  _ told _ you, I don’t have horses,” Alice answers, not bothering to look back over her shoulder at him. She boosts herself up onto the bed, holding out the items in her hands proudly. “I found your musicmaker.”

Nicole looks down at her old Walkman and smiles. “My music  _ player _ ,” she corrects. “It’s called a Walkman.”

“I have a Walkboy,” Alice offers. “We can play later. I’ll let you win the Pokémon puzzle game if you’re nice to me.”

“Deal,” Nicole breathes out. She frowns at the headphones connected to the Walkman, holding up the slim, white cord. “What’s this?”

“My headphones,” Alice says, the  _ duh _ in her voice too loud to ignore.

“These are shoelaces,” Nicole says.

“Welcome to the 21st Century, Haught,” Wynonna says. “We listen to music using tiny white headphones, and we use mp3 players, or compact discs here.”

Nicole wrinkles her nose. “Language.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “I didn’t swear.”

Alice nods. “Yes you did. You said ‘compact disc’.” She points quickly at Nicole. “It’s not swearin’ if I’m re-repeating it, right?”

Nicole grins. “Right.”

Wynonna huffs and sits down on the end of the bed, leaning against the footboard. She pats the empty space next to her and Waverly sits down. She reaches for Wynonna’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Alice clears her throat, and Nicole looks up, meeting her eyes.

“I shall excuse myself ladies,” Doc says quietly. He takes off his hat, holding it to his chest. “I am very, very glad to see you awake, Nicole.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Nicole says.

He slips out the door, and Alice moves closer, leaning into Nicole’s good side. She carefully holds up both earbuds, examining them for something Nicole can’t see before she nods to herself. She carefully pushes one bud into Nicole’s ear, wiggling it around until she’s satisfied, and then she reaches for the Walkman, pressing the play button. There’s nothing but scratchy silence for a moment and Nicole opens her mouth, ready to tell Alice that her earbud isn’t working.

“Papa helped me pick out the song,” Alice whispers as the first note starts.

“ _ So long, I've been looking too hard, I've been waiting too long _ ,” Lou Gramm sings.

Nicole frowns. “What tape is this?”

Alice shrugs. “It said Auntie Wavey’s name on it.”

Nicole hits the ‘pause’ button, popping the tape out of the Walkman. It’s a TDK 90 minute cassette, but Nicole recognizes it instantly.

“Is that my-”

Nicole nods at Waverly. She looks down at Alice. “Where did you get this?”

Alice looks at Wynonna. “Mama broke into your ‘partment and took it out of the closet. We fed Styx, too. He’s really sad when you’re not home.” She squints down at Nicole’s leg, wrapped in white gauze. “You’re gonna be home lots now, though, right?”

“Right,” Nicole breathes. She looks at Wynonna. “You broke into my apartment.”

“To feed Styx,” Wynonna says quickly. “And because I knew Waverly would rush over here and refuse to leave until you’d decided to stop being dramatic and get up and get out of here, so… we picked up a few things for her.”

“Including the mixtape I made her in high school?”

Wynonna shrugs. “I was feeling sentimental. Sue me.”

Alice reaches for the tape, shushing them. “It’s quiet time,” she says firmly. “I’m making Auntie ‘Cole feel better with the music, so hush your traps.”

Wynonna’s eyes widen. “Well,  _ excuse  _ me, Ms. Queen Brisk of Bossy Town.”

Alice smiles widely. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you’re perfect,” Nicole says before Wynonna can speak. She eases Alice back against the pillow, sliding the tape into the Walkman. “It means you’re in charge, and if you think the music is going to make me feel better, than that’s exactly what we should be doing.”

“Music makes  _ everything _ better,” Alice says decidedly. She presses ‘play’ on the Walkman again, and Lou Gramm is back in Nicole’s ear, singing.

“ _ Sometimes I don't know what I will find, I only know it's a matter of time when you love someone, when you love someone. _ ”

Nicole looks up at Wynonna, her eyes burning. She tries to blink back the tears she can feel building, but they spill down her cheeks anyway. She buries her face in Alice’s hair, feeling Waverly’s hand tighten around her ankle.

“ _ It feels so right, so warm and true, I need to know if you feel it too. Maybe I'm wrong, won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong? This heart of mine has been hurt before, this time I want to be sure. _ ”

It’s not going to be easy, she knows. She knows it’ll be months of physical therapy; that she’ll need to talk to someone about the nightmares she can already feel pushing at the corners of her mind; that she’ll need to find a way to not be scared of the dark. She knows she’ll be behind a desk for a while - something she  _ hates _ \- but that she can already think of things to do there: increase the community service programs, start another park cleanup project, meet with all of the neighborhood watch committees. She can work on the orientation manual she’s been thinking of doing, too.

“ _ I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life.” _

But she knows she has Waverly and Wynonna and Alice. She has Mercedes and Doc and Nathan and Dolls and Jeremy and Rosita and Chrissy and Perry. She has her mom and Gus. She has Nedley. She has Hayley and Hank and Rand. She has the guys at the station. She has the regulars at The Patch. She has Cub and the boys at the ambulance service.

She has all of Purgatory in her corner.

She can stay on the right track, if she has  _ them _ .

_ I've been waiting for a girl like you, your loving will survive. I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive. _ ”

Alice’s fingers curl sleepily into the front of her hospital gown. Wynonna reaches out, stroking her fingers down the slope of Alice’s forehead, over her cheeks, and off her chin. She looks at Nicole and smiles softly. Nicole nods back, a lump in her throat. She looks away, catching Waverly’s eye.

“ _ Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life. _ ”

Waverly smiles at Nicole, and the next song starts.


End file.
